




















THE 


3 


YOUNG CONVERTS; 


OR 


: IRS OF THE THREE SISTERS, 


DEBBIE, HELEN AND ANNA BARLOW. 




f\ 


CommUb bn h ^nb)T. 

■_*. & . S»i+* 


EDITED BY THE REV. I. T. HECKER. 



PUBLISHED BY P. O’SHEA, 104 BLEECKER-STREET. 
1861. 



















I 






















































\ 












EDITOR’S PREFACE, 


The great work to which all things in this world are 
subordinated, is that of man’s redemption. 

This work, for which God became man, is continued 
through His organ—the Church. The Church is therefore 
the real centre of the world—the conversion of the world 
is the great work of the Church. 

It matters not where the Church is placed—this she re¬ 
gards always as her work. It matters not how feeble may 
be her means, or how great may be her trials, she never 
interrupts this work ; for she is conscious—she knows— 
that she has with her Him who conquered the world. 
Hence she always works with the conviction of conquering. 
How unequal w r as an illiterate, coarsely clad peasant to 
the task of conquering an empire which gave the law to 
all nations! Yet Peter, the Gallilean fisherman, as the 
Apostle of Christ, was more than a match for Rome. The 
Cross surmounts the Eagle. 

The Church never counts numbers, or regards position* 
She enters with the same zeal and the same hope on the 
instruction of an untutored laborer or poor servant girl, as 
on the conversion of philosophers, or men of wealth and 
rank. The obstacles to be overcome are to her a matter 
of small consequence. Paganism, barbarism, tyranny, 
license, pride of intellect, heresy, false civilization, race, 
color—she grapples with them all. In her dwells Him 



iv editor’s preface. 

whose power is irresistible, whose wisdom is all-compre¬ 
hensive, whose love is all-embracing—who weighs all 
things, and accomplishes all mightily and gently. 

Such she has ever been—such she will be always to the 
end. The Church knows no.age; the command to teach 
all nations was for all people and for all times. It was 
the thirst for the conversion of souls that first led her 
steps to the New World ; and now that she has existence 
here, shall she not earnestly desire to win the people 
to her faith ? To work for the conversion of the people 
of the country is a necessity of her being— it is her life 
and existence; and as we live her life, sympathize with 
her aims, identify our interest with hers, it becomes our 
work, our life and existence. To be a member of the 
Church, then, is to labor in whatever position God has 
placed us, for the conversion of our people. This is only 
saying in other words , 11 We are Catholics.” 

Will she meet with success in this work ? A child of 
the mother of heroes and martyrs will not stop to ask this 
question. Has she not made conquest of the pagan world, 
triumphing over all its idolatries and superstitions ? Has 
she not converted and civilized the northern tribes of 
Europe, notwithstanding their rude genius and the bar¬ 
barism of their customs? And is it a great stretch of 
faith to predict for her in this noblest and fairest field— 
where she has full sway to exercise her divine mission—a 
victory alike worthy of the intelligence of the American 
people, and her power as the Bride of Christ. 

But the bright anticipations of faith, however well 
founded, are not all we have to rely on. The Church has 


editor’s preface. 


V 


already done a great deal on American soil. Her labor 
and success in reclaiming the aboriginal children of our 
forests, furnish some of the most pleasing pages of Ameri¬ 
can history. Nor is she without her triumphs among 
the free and intelligent people who have succeeded to the 
American name. Her numbers increase every day. 
Statesmen, philosophers, poets, jurists, the high in birth, 
the lowly born, the young and the old, men of every 
rank, position, and profession—all come to swell her ranks. 
There is hardly a family of any distinction in the country 
that does not number among its members one or more 
converts to her faith. Indeed Tertullian's famous descrip 
tion of the spread of the Church in the second century, 
may be not inaptly applied to the growth of the Church 
among our people in our day : “ We are a people of yester¬ 
day, yet we have filled every place belonging to your 
cities, islands, castles, towns, assemblies—your very camps, 
your tribes, companies, palace, senate, forum! We leave 
your temples only.* • • • Men cry out that the state is be¬ 
set, that the Christians are in their fields, in their forts, in 
tlieir islands. They mourn, as for a loss, that every sex, 
age, condition, and now every rank, is going over to this 
sect.”t 

Perhaps in no part of the country can the Church look 
for a speedier triumph than in New England. Nowhere 
are the people more susceptible of religious impressions. 
It is from a misdirected religious enthusiasm that those 
various sects and erratic movements peculiar to the New 
England States, take their rise. When the attention of 


* Apology. 


-j- Ad Scapula, xxxvii. 


vi editor’s preface. 

such a people shall have been gained and applied to the 
study of the claims of the Catholic religion, New England 
will recognize its divine character, and proclaim itself- 
Catholic. Then, instead of sending forth propagandists 
and emissaries of error, strife and discord, her Missionaries 
will be most active heralds in publishing truth and peace 
through their fair and fruitful land. May this little 
volume, the narrative of the conversion of three of the 
daughters of New England, not be altogether without its 
influence in bringing about such a result. The simple 
story of the conquest of the young heart by religion—of 
the honest overcoming of instilled prejudices, of fidelity 
to grace, sacrifice for conscience’ sake, and loyalty to God 
—will perhaps produce a deeper impression in many minds, 
on behalf of the Catholic religion, than a more ambitious 
and labored apology. I. T. H. 


Pissimrarg gjowsc of ft. Jjaul tbe gnostic, 

New York, Feast of the Immaculate Conception, 1860. 


PREFACE OF THE COMPILER. 


TO THE YOUNG CATHOLICS OF THE DIOCESE OF 
BURLINGTON, Vt. : 

My Dear Young Friends —Soon after the 
death of Debbie Barlow in April, I received 
a letter from our venerated Bishop requesting 
me to prepare and present to your perusal a 
little sketch of the edifying lives'of the three 
sisters of whom she was the oldest. I could 
not hesitate to comply, though I distrusted my 
own ability to perform what was required in 
a satisfactory manner. Feeling at once the 
need of more material than I could have 
access to here, I went to the Convent in Mon¬ 
treal, where I found it in greater abundance 
than I could have expected. The recollec¬ 
tions of my sojourn at the delightful board¬ 
ing-school retreat of the Congregation do 





PREFACE. 


Notre Dame at Villa Maria, (formerly Monk- 
lands,) on Montreal Mountain—of the polite 
hospitality with which I was entertained—of 
my enjoyment in the society of the pious and 
intelligent sisters, and participation in the re¬ 
ligious privileges of that favored, abode, will 
be gratefully cherished while I live. By the 
aid of the copious subject-matter there ob¬ 
tained, and her letters written to her parents 
at various intervals when she was absent from 
home, my task has been a light one in compar¬ 
ison with what I expected : the compilation 
and arrangement of it, having formed the 
chief part of the labor. Hoping it may prove 
as interesting and edifying to you in the peru¬ 
sal as it has been to me in the preparation, 
and humbly recommending myself to your 
prayers, I remain your devoted friend, 

The Compiler. 


Burlington, June 11, 1860. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Some time in the early part of February, 1853, a lady 
was passing the day with her young and invalid daughter, 
in the village of St. Albans, Vermont, and awaiting, in the 
parlor of a hotel, the arrival of some friends—whom they 
were expecting—in the cars from the South. Soon after 
they entered the parlor, two young girls, apparently but 
slightly separated as to age, (the younger one being a little 
the taller of the two,) entered also, having evidently but 
just arrived after a drive of considerable length in the cold 
morning air. Their interesting appearance and engaging 
manners attracted the attention of the mother and daugh¬ 
ter, and led them into conjectures as to who they could 
be, which were soon solved by the entrance of their well- 
known father, who immediately introduced the beautiful 
young strangers as his oldest daughters, Debbie and Helen 
Barlow, then of Fairfield, a village about eight miles to 
the east of St. Albans. He was on his way with them to 
Montreal, where he designed to place them in the board¬ 
ing-school of the Ladies of the Congregation of Notre 
Dame, for their education. As the young invalid to whom 
I have alluded had been a pupil in a convent, they were 
much interested to learn from her all they could of the 
general rules and routine, both as to studies and recreation 
in such institutions, and the elder one, especially, addressed 
inquiries to her in relation to those matters, that evince 1 



X 


INTRODUCTION. 


a degree of intelligence, forethought and prudence,vvery 
remarkable in one so young. Her replies were far from 
encouraging, for she knew by experience that the firm, 
though perfectly mild restrains which constantly encompass 
the convent pupil, under all circumstances, are extremely 
irksome at first, even to Catholics who are subjected to 
them after having been accustomed to the freedom from 
discipline which characterizes the training of our youug 
people generally, both at home and in our schools, whether 
to their advantage or disadvantage the consequences thereof 
must testify. She closed her remarks, however, by as¬ 
suring them that though they would shrink from the sys¬ 
tem in the beginning, and probably be quite homesick for 
the first few weeks, yet they would form so strong an at¬ 
tachment to it, if they remained long enough to become 
habituated to its silent influence, as to feel more painfully 
still, upon their return home, their release from the gentle 
and salutary enthralment, than they did the first exercise 
of its restraining, directing and controlling power. They 
have often assured me since, that these remarks were use¬ 
ful in preparing them for a life so new, and proved true 
in every respect, only that they were less annoyed by their 
subjection to its discipline, and recognized more immedi¬ 
ately its wholesome effect than they had expected. The 
lady alluded to did not see them again until the winter 
after they left the convent, though she had heard, with 
such measure of incredulity as may safely be allowed to 
most rumors of the kind, (however true they may have 
proved in this instance,) that they had been removed in 
consequence of an apprehension on the part of their 


INTRODUCTION. 


XI 


parents that the Catholic religion was making such favora¬ 
ble impressions on their young minds and hearts as to en¬ 
danger their Protestantism. During the winter succeeding 
their return, and the death of her daughter, who has been 
mentioned, she passed some time at St. Albans, and was 
often visited by Debbie Barlow, who was in the habit of 
making excursions from Fairfield to St. Albans frequently. 
In the course of those visits she discovered that the re¬ 
ports touching the interest which her lovely young friend 
cherished in the Catholic religion were true ; and knowing 
better the sore trials which must beset the path of the 
young pilgrim in that direction, than she did the firmness 
of purpose and strength of character to sustain them with 
which she was gifted, maintained a quiet though prayerful 
reserve upon the subject, under the full assurance that if 
the work was indeed from God, it would be perfected in 
His own good time and way. This reserve, while it really 
grieved the sensitive and affectionate heart of the beloved 
child, drew from her sallies of playful wit upon some oc¬ 
casions, and upon others serious remonstrances, which dis¬ 
covered both the brilliancy of her genius, and the earnest¬ 
ness and depth of her reasonings and convictions. 

The character of Debbie Barlow was indeed one of rare 
strength and excellence. Endowed with an intuitive 
sense of the good and the beautiful, as quick to appreciate 
as she was eager to seek them in every subject which was 
.. presented to her notice, (however much popular prejudice 
might have sought to distort it,) and equally able to dis¬ 
cern their opposites under whatever disguises they might 
appear. Her very childhood surprised us with the calm 


introduction. 


xii 

results and thoughtful estimates of an intellect so thorough¬ 
ly well-balanced, so free from apathy on the one hand and 
enthusiasm on the other, as women rarely possess even at 
maturity. 

In the mode which I have chosen for the introduction of 
my subject, I am well aware that I have departed from 
the course usual to biography. It may be thought that I 
have presented it too abruptly, with too little formality. 
It was perhaps to be expected that I should enter with my 
young friend into the home of her childhood, and represent 
to my readers the brilliant prospects which opened before 
her as she stood in all the freshness of youth and beauty, and 
in the plenitude of her talents and accomplishments, upon 
the threshold of life—the pride of her fond and indulgent 
parents—surrounded by the advantages of wealth and in¬ 
timate connection with many distinguished families of 
Vermont and New York, and beset with allurements 
which would have enticed a heart less pure, and aspira¬ 
tions less simple, to a lasting union with the vanities of 
time and sense ; and it is indeed proper that I should here 
allude to these circumstances, in order to give due credit 
to the discrimination and firmness with which she weighed 
them all in the balance against Eternity, and, having so 
proved their emptiness, launched her frail bark courage¬ 
ously upon a stormy flood to encounter buffetings from 
the wild billows of opposition and contempt, and to strug¬ 
gle against their power, until the peaceful haven towards 
which all her desires and efforts were directed should be 
securely attained. With the history of these struggles, 
from the moment that the first gentle influences of Divine 


INTRODUCTION. 


xiii 

grace settled down into her fervent soul, and the first faint 
rays of Truth dawned upon her clear intellect, until their 
glorious and triumphant close, the heart of every Catholic, 
whether old or young, must be deeply interested. 

It is the design of elucidating these, for the edification 
and instruction of my dear young Catholic friends, that 
animates my heart, and inspires me with courage lovingly 
to undertake this labor, even while shrinking from it 
depressed with the consciousness of my own incompe¬ 
tence to do justice to my exalted sense of the beauty and 
merit of its subject. Indeed I should hardly have dared 
the attempt, had it not happened that the lady who was 
her dearest friend and teacher, at the convent, and with 
whom she corresponded at irregular intervals from the 
time she left the boarding-school, had, contrary to the 
usual practice of the religious orders, carefully preserved 
most of her letters and fragments of her writings while at 
the school, which fell in her way, convinced that they 
were the productions of a remarkable mind and heart. 
These she very kindly otfered to my inspection, that I 
might extract from their contents whatever I found that 
could aid me in the fulfillment of my undertaking, in the 
object of which she, in common with the whole devoted 
community to which she belongs, entertains the deepest 
interest. She also promised to furnish me with any in¬ 
formation in her power, whick might serve to supply 
missing links in the chain of our little history. 

By availing myself of her offer, and important assistance 
also (during a recent visit to Montreal), in selecting, ar¬ 
ranging, and copying these copious extracts, I hope to 
2 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION. 


enable our lamented young friend—though her fair form 
reposes in the Halls of Silence, and we shall listen no 
more on earth to the tones of a voice whose utterances 
were as music to our ears—to discourse with us yet, elo¬ 
quently and impressively, through the sentiments and the 
events which her own pen recorded, in her artless and ad¬ 
mirable manner, thus 

“ Depositing upon the silent shore 
Of memory, images and precious thoughts 
That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed. 






THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


. Ox the ninth day of February, 1853, Debbie 
Barlow first entered the Convent of the Con¬ 
gregation of Notre Dame, as a pupil in that 
excellent institution. She was then just about 
fifteen years of age, and her sister Helen, who 
accompanied her; was about thirteen. As the 
history of the first impressions upon her mind, 
as well as their subsequent development, will 
interest and edify my young readers, I must 
claim their attention and indulgence, if I en¬ 
ter more minutely into its details than would, 
at the first glance, seem necessary. When 
they passed through the large gate which 
opens from Notre-Dame Street into the in¬ 
closure of the Institution, “ the Convent 
walls,” to use her own expression, “looked so 
gray, so dark, so dismal!” that the sight of 
them made her heart sink with dread, and she 
entered beneath their shadow with such shrink¬ 
ing reluctance that, according to her own ac- 



16 THM YOUNG CONVERTS. 

count of it, nothing could have sustained her 
under the parting with her father, but the con¬ 
viction that it was her duty to make this sac¬ 
rifice of her feelings to please him, after he 
had so kindly exerted himself to secure its 
valuable advantages for her education. When 
she had been there two days, she wrote the 
following letter to her mother : 

“ My Dear Mother —Here I am seated in 
a convent , (will you laugh at the idea ?) writ¬ 
ing to you. Despite my aversion to the Ro¬ 
man Catholic religion and the various prayers 
we are obliged to attend upon, I am very con¬ 
tented. To be sure I feel the same as regards 
the doctrines of this Church as I always have, 
and my dislike to worship as they do is the 
same as when I was at home ; but outward 
forms will not change the heart; it is mockery 
for me to bow to the image of the Virgin 
Mary, and even if I did that, it would be only 
because I was compelled to do so, and if the 
nuns know it they will certainly not oblige me 
me to do it. I cannot turn my eyes in any 
direction without beholding some statue or 
painting. The prayers are mostb in French, 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


IT 


and I do not understand them at all. The 
hymns are sung to the Mother of God, and in¬ 
deed it seems to me that they put their whole 
trust in her, but I suppose they do not. How¬ 
ever, my belief is, that we are commanded to 
worship one God only. But no more of this. 
The nuns are very kind and no one can help 
loving them. The wishes of their pupils are 
all granted, as far at least, as would be best 
for their interests. * * * I will close here, for 
I cannot write all the particulars concerning 
the school; I will in my next. No one sees 
our letters except one of the nuns. Helen is 
perfectly contented and sends love, etc.” * * 
A fortnight later, she wrote to her mother, 
under date of March 1st: 

* I presume you have heard from father 
all about our journey from home here, so I will 
leave that and continue. We entered the 
convent on Wednesday, were received very 
kindly by the nuns whom you have no idea of 
at all; they are very pleasant and seem to be 
very happy. There are many that I sliould 
think are quite young and accomplished, and, 
we should think if we had them in the world, 


18 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


great additions to society. They are devoted 
to their religion, beyond my power to express. 
They introduced us to some of the young 
ladies who seemed very amiable and who did 
their best to show us the various rooms, and 
inform us of the rules and requirements of the 
the school ; at evening the whole school as¬ 
sembled in the recreation room, which is large 
and divided into two parts, one for the smaller 
children, and the other for the older girls. 
You may imagine the noise we made, for there 
were no less than one hundred and forty of us. 
There was a nun in each room to oversee the 
plays, and who seemed to enjoy it as well as 
we did ourselves. We did almost anything 
we wished ; some were seated in groups, talk¬ 
ing on all subjects, others were promenading 
up and down the rooms, some were standing 
around the nun’s chair (which was raised some 
height from the floor), talking with her, and 
others were singing and dancing, jumping the 
rope, etc. Soon the folding-doors opened and 
the younger children came marching through, 
headed by one they had chosen for their 
leader, and who seemed to be the head one in 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


19 


all their plays. They were singing a march, 
and you may be sure they looked very pretty ; 
at the command of their leader, (who was a 
noble-looking child,) they marched round the 
room several times and then returned ; there 
were at least fifty of them. We spent the 
evening very pleasantly, and at eight o’clock 
the bell rung for us to go to prayers. We 
went to the chapel, which is very pretty in¬ 
deed ; it is adjoining the dining-room, and I 
should think that it was purposely for evening 
or private devotions ;* the altar is small, but 
beautiful; it is gilded and decorated with 
statues, crucifix and silver candlesticks, with 
wax tapers, etc., etc. The walls are also hung 
with very beautiful paintings of our Lord, 
the Virgin Mary and various Saints. After 
prayers and an evening hymn to the Virgin, 
we retired for the night. Helen and myself 
have a room together, with separate beds. * * 
“ At six in the morning we rise and proceed 
to the chapel to hear Mass. It is under the 
same roof with the convent, but not the one 
we go to for evening prayers; it is much 


It is the young ladies’ chapel.— Comp. 


20 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


larger, and has three altars. The paintings 
there are some of them very large and beauti¬ 
ful, and they have also a very line organ, 
which is played by one of the nuns. After 
Mass we go to breakfast, and then to study 
until eleven; then catechism until twelve, 
dinner and recreation until one, and study 
until three ; recreation from three to four, 
then study, and a lecture until six ; then tea 
and recreation until eight. We enjoy our¬ 
selves now as we did when we first came ; in¬ 
deed, every day I enjoy myself more and 
more. * * * 

“ I will now tell you what studies I am pur¬ 
suing. Monday I have French and Arith¬ 
metic ; Tuesday, Rhetoric, Philosophy and 
Dictionary ; Wednesday, French and Arith¬ 
metic. Thursday we do not study, but mend 
our clothes and embroider. I am going to 
commence embroidering a piano-stool Thurs¬ 
day, and Helen a piece to frame. Friday I 
recite in History, Geography, Botany and 
Parsing. Saturday is for writing composi¬ 
tions. Every month the literary societies 
meet; they are the young ladies that write 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


21 


compositions on a given subject, and read 
them before priests, the nuns, and any persons 
they may see fit to invite to come in. Sister 

G- has given me an invitation to write an 

address to St. Joseph’s Society asking admis¬ 
sion to it. You may know that I rather dis¬ 
like to do it; but I shall, for it must be of 
much benefit to the young ladies to be mem¬ 
bers of the Society. Every month the good 
and bad marks are read, and those that behave 
themselves well enough are put on the table 
of honor at the end of the year ; that is, they 
have their names put into a gilt frame and 
hung up in the parlor ; but I rather think 
it would be vain for me to aspire to that 
honor, though perseverance may do it. 
* * * Give my love to father. After he 
gets home from Washington you must write 
to me about the inauguration.” * * * * 
Through some fault in the distributing 
offices, their letters were delayed in reaching 
home, and their mother wrote by a gentleman 
of Montreal, in great anxiety to know why 
she did not hear from them. Debbie replied 
under date of March 11: “I have no doubt 



22 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


that my letters left the convent, and that all 
that have come to the convent for me I have 
had. I think the trouble is somewhere else, 
for I have not the slightest idea that my let¬ 
ters have met with any impediment in the con¬ 
vent. The young ladies tell me that they 
never have had any trouble with theirs, and 
more than that, I have too high an opinion of 
the nuns to think they would stop a letter 
going home, and much less tell me that the 
letters went, when they did not. I am very 
contented, and you need not give yourself any 
uneasiness about us. The nuns are very kind, 
and are altogether different from what I 
thought they were ; they seem very happy, 
and enjoy themselves quite as well as any one 
in the world could, and better, perhaps. 
Helen says that she is perfectly contented, 
and that you need not be in the least uneasy 
about her. I am getting along very well in 
my studies, and am very well pleased with my 
music teacher.” 

On the twenty-fifth of the same month, she 
writes : “ I was happy to hear that you had 
received my letters, which were probably de- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


23 


tained in some office, for you might find in 
them much more than I could remember to 
tell again. I am still happy in my home ; 
there is nothing to prevent our being happy, 
for it is the pleasure of our dear “ Tantes”* 
to see us enjoy ourselves ; yes they seek our 
happiness as much as they do our improve¬ 
ment. I wish you could see the nuns ; you 
would be an ardent admirer of them if you 
only knew what lives they lead. I will say 
plainly , that we see but few with us that 
would give up all for the love of God , and live 
the life of a nun. The world occupies too 
much of their attention and love to forsake 
it; but what does a nun do ? To be sure, she 
loves her home and friends, but she sacrifices 
all for God ; they will meet their reward in 
Heaven. You have no idea of them ! Their 
devotion to their religion, the gentle spirit 
they evince in every action, their love of 
prayer, and their perfect charity, are not to be 
witnessed in every-day life, I assure you. I)o 
not think I am going into ecstacies about the 

* French for “Aunts,” by which appellation the pupils 
of that Institution address the nuns.— Compiler. 


24 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


nuns, and shall follow in their footsteps at 
some future day. No ; I am not so sober yet 
as that. I do not think I could do as they do. 
I only think that they are Christians in every 
sense of the word , and any one who knows 
them must form the same opinion in a very 
short time. You will excuse me for taking so 
much of my letter for my “ Tantes I only 
want you to see them, and i will assure you 
that your mind will change. I am getting 
along in Music very well, and I think I have 
an excellent teacher. My teacher in drawing 
would not allow me to proceed in monochro¬ 
matic, until I had taken lessons in penciling ; 
so I commenced, and she says I get along re¬ 
markably well, and shall do a large piece in 
monochromatic to take home in July. French 
I am not very fond of; but they talk it so 
much here that I cannot fail to learn it; my 
teacher tells me that if I apply myself, I shall 
learn it easily enough. Helen’s studies are 
Music, French, History, Philosophy, Grammar 
and Arithmetic. I think she is perfectly con¬ 
tented and will remain so. I have had letters 
from all my friends since I came here, and you 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


25 


may be sure I find it a great pleasure to have 
so many correspondents while in a convent. 
How did the inauguration pass off ? If father 
has come home, write and tell me the events 
that occurred ; give my love to father, and 
tell him I shall write to him soon. Every let¬ 
ter is seen by ma Tante N-; but I do not 

care, as I do not write or receive anything, 
but what I am willing she should read. * *” 
During the first few months of her convent 
life, Debbie was, though perfectly polite in 
her deportment towards all, distant and re¬ 
served also, especially with the nuns—declin¬ 
ing to enter into conversation with them, or 
to form familiar acquaintance with any of her 
young companions, who, while they admired 
the charms of her person and manners, and re¬ 
spected the abilities which rendered their gift¬ 
ed young rival conspicuous in the competi¬ 
tions of the class-rooms, were more captivated 
with the winning gayety and artless frankness 
of her sister. Time wore rather heavily away 
with her for the first month ; though not at 
all home-sick, her spirit did not harmonize 
with anything around her, and she sought re- 



26 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


lief from its weariness by most diligent appli¬ 
cation to study, and intellectual exercises. 
She complained that so much attention was 
bestowed, as it seemed to her very unnecessa¬ 
rily, upon religion, (the season being that of 
Lent,) and that she could not turn her eyes in 
any direction without seeing some object 
which suggested thoughts of Eternity. To 
the weekly instructions in the class-room— 
given by the Sisters in explanation of the 
truths of Divine Revelation, and always con¬ 
ducted colloquially, that the pupils may offer 
such remarks or ask such questions as they de¬ 
sire—she was, however, a deeply interested 
and intelligent listener, though she seldom 
ventured any remarks herself upon the sub¬ 
jects under discussion. The solemn services 
of Lent, the moving meditations, the earnest 
exhortations to repentance and the soul- 
searching examinations of conscience, which 
always form a part of the daily chapel exer¬ 
cises of that penitential season in a convent, 
were not lost upon her, although she was not 
willing to acknowledge her first favorable im¬ 
pressions even to herself, or to manifest them 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


27 


by yielding any outward tokens of respect to 
the rites which had awakened them, beyond 
the mere external conformity which was ex¬ 
acted from all the pupils—Protestants as well 
as Catholics being required to attend services 
in the chapel, though allowed to use their ow r n 
books of devotion or Bibles during the time, if 
they wished. In this conformity, as in the 
most attentive and strict compliance with all 
the regulations of the institution, she was so 
exemplary as to be regarded, even within the 
first month after her entrance, as a pattern of 
excellence in those respects, both by the teach¬ 
ers and pupils. 

During Holy Week, she was more depressed 
than ever, as most of the scholars were en¬ 
gaged in the absorbing duties of the season, 
out of study hours, to the great abridgment, 
if not entire cessation of their ordinary recre¬ 
ations. On Holy Thursday, March 2*4, when 
her young companions went to the chapel to 
offer their adorations to our Divine Redeemer 
before the Blessed Sacrament, on the day upon 
which we commemorate His institution of that 
sublime memorial of His dying'love, she wan- 


28 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


dered about quite lonely, and at length seeing 
her favorite teacher, towards whom she was 
beginning to manifest some affection, (though 
she carefully abstained in the presence of her 
companions from showing any regard to one 
teacher more than another,) and in whose 
tender and faithful heart she quietly confided 
all her little trials and difficulties, she com¬ 
plained to her of the oppressive sense of lone¬ 
liness which was weighing upon her spirits. 
The good Sister advised her to get a book 
from the library for her amusement; seeing 
one lying on her table, she asked if she might 
take that. The Sister smilingly assented, 
thinking, as it was the “ Rule of Faith,” that 
she would hardly find much in its contents 
which would prove attractive or interesting 
to her young mind. Debbie, however, took it 
away with her. It was one of the many re¬ 
markable circumstances by which the hand of 
God guided this singularly favored soul, that, 
in its peculiar state at that juncture, this book 
proved to be the best one which could have 
been selected for her. To her careful persual 
of it, during the silence and quiet of that holy 


TI1E YOUNG CONVERTS. 


29 


season, we may safely ascribe the subsequent 
clearness and firmness of her conceptions of 
Catholic principles, both in theory and prac¬ 
tice. She was herself grateful for the benefit 
she derived from it, and ever held works of 
that description, (dry and interesting as they 
would seem to most young minds,) in much 
higher esteem than those of a lighter and 
merely amusing character. 

If our young people could be persuaded to 
cultivate a similar taste, how greatly would it 
increase their happiness and usefulness, and 
diminish the evils which now prevail to such 
an alarming extent in young society! The 
next day after the occurrence last recorded 
being Good Friday, the chapel was arrayed in 
its mourning drapery, in preparation for the 
solemn and affecting services of the day. 
Debbie begged permission to go with the sis¬ 
ter to see it before those services commenced, 
which was accorded. She was deeply moved 
by the sorrowful aspect it presented. The 
young ladies took no breakfast, but a small 
piece of bread and a glass of water. The 
sister having forgotten to order butter for the 

. 3 * 


30 


THE YOUNG CONVENTS. 


Protestant pupils, did so as soon as she no¬ 
ticed the omission, but observed that Debbie 
refused to take any. She told the Sister she 
did not know what she should do with herself 
during the long services in the chapel. “ Did 
our Divine Redeemer not die for you as well 
as for others ?” asked the sister. “ Yes, ma 
Xante, I suppose He did.” “Well, can you 
not return thanks to Him for His infinite mer¬ 
cies exhibited in the great sacrifice on Mount 
Calvary, and bow down in humble sorrow for 
your sins, which made that sacrifice necessary, 
meditating deeply upon those momentous 
subjects at this time, solemnly set apart for 
their commemoration, for this one day at 
least; after all that He has done and suffered 
for you ?” She was so impressed by the sug¬ 
gestions of the good Sister, that she passed a 
great part of the day in the young ladies’ 
chapel, and in tears. That she might not at¬ 
tract the attention of her sister and compan¬ 
ions, she would go out occasionally among 
them, and passing through the various groups 
in different rooms, that they might say, (if she 
was inquired for.) that she had just been 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


31 


there, return to her chosen place m an obscure 
corner of the chapel, to reflect upon her sins 
and the great expiation offered for them, and 
to mourn over them in deep contrition. Sev¬ 
eral of the young ladies saw her there at dif¬ 
ferent times during the day, and told the 
teacher mentioned above, that Debbie Barlow 
was kneeling in the chapel and weeping sadly ; 
they were told npt to speak of it, or appear 
to notice it. She always dated her conversion 
from that day. It was then she was first led 
by God’s blessing upon a word “ spoken in 
season,” to see the “ exceeding sinfulness,” as 
she expressed it, of her whole life thus far, 
and her need of the Divine grace. Fervently 
did she pray, as the hours of that mournful but 
blessed Good Friday wore on, that the same 
Holy Spirit which had now illuminated her 
soul with a new light, and inspired it with 
new desires, would perfect the work. He had 
thus begun, by “ guiding it into all truth,” and 
“abiding with her forever,” to be her Com¬ 
forter and her Protector in this life, and her 
exceeding great reward in eternity. 

Early in April she wrote the following let- 


32 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


ter to her mother—the date is not given : 
“ My Dear Mother : Your letter was re¬ 
ceived some days since, and I should have 
answered it ere this had I not been so slow at 
writing, for there has lain a letter in my 
drawer half finished for the last few days. I 
cannot imagine, mother, why you should so 
often regret sending us here. I have told you 
repeatedly that I was very happy here, and 
that I could not be happier elsewhere. You 
are assured that the advantages for obtaining 
an excellent education are to be found here* 
and that the religious feelings of the young 
ladies are not intruded upon by the Catholics* 
I will tell you again that nothing has been 
said to me either by my teachers or my friends 
unless I asked them some questions in rela¬ 
tion to their faith, which they of course au- 
swered. Helen is in ecstacies to think you 
are coming so soon, but you know that I am 
not generally so much excited by good news, 
as she is, therefore I try to make her think 
sometimes that you will not come, for she 
would be so much disappointed if you should 
not. I am in hopes to see you the first of 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 33 

May, but even if you do not come it will not 
be long before we see you, for school closes 
the 15th of July. * * * Helen is well, and 
sends her love. Give my love to grandmother, 
to all of my friends, and to father and the 
little girls. Write soon and often to your 
affectionate daughter, Debbie.” 

Soon after the foregoing letter was written, 
she discovered that one of her young friends, 
who was very pious and particularly attached 
to her ^(and who is now, as we may humbly 
hope, rejoicing with her in a better world, she 
having departed this life some months pre¬ 
viously to Debbie), was making a novena, or 
nine days’ prayer, to obtain, through the pray¬ 
ers of St. Joseph united with her own, some 
special spiritual favor at the hands of God, 
and was convinced that the object of it was 
her own conversion. Having importuned the 
young lady in vain to reveal it,, she made 
some light remarks bordering upon contempt, 
in relation to such prayers, which wounded 
the feelings of her to whom they were ad¬ 
dressed. A few days after, when they had 
entered the class-room in the morning, her 


34 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


thoughts reverting to the impropriety of those 
remarks and the grief they had caused her 
friend, she tore a fly-leaf from her class-book, 
and wrote with a pencil upon it, so hastily 
that it was almost illegible, the following ex¬ 
pressions : “ My Dear Katie, you know that 
on Sunday last I guessed what the object of 
your novena to St. Joseph was, although_;I 
almost knew what it was before. And you 
cannot fail to remember how lightly I spoke 
of your prayers for the intercession of those 
holy souls, who were the chosen persons of 
our Father in Heaven to protect His only 
Son, our dear Saviour. Dear Kate, they must 
have hurt your heart too much at the time to 
forget them so soon. Will you be surprised 
when I tell you that I meant very little what 
I said, and will you be more surprised when 
I add that, at heart, I am already a Catholic 1 
Yes, Kate! I trust your novena has reached 
the Heavenly Throne, and that its object has 
been attained on earth. There has lain on 
my heart a load —yes! in my gayest hours 
you might have seen, if you cast a look on 
my face, a troubled expression, one of anxiety, 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


35 


nnd wliafc caused it ? The conviction that I 
ought to be a Catholic^ and ivould not. Last 
night I thought I could endure it no longer ; 
my heart was willing, and I did seek for ad¬ 
vice from one of the nuns. I have not read 
to convince myself, nor have I prayed until 
quite lately, but others have done the latter 
for me, which I will ever remember. I must 
some time be a Catholic! I can be nothing 
else. Even if I read only my Bible I must 
believe truths of that Church. * * * Yes, 
Kate, believe me, I am a Catholic, and pray 
for your affectionate Debbie. ” 

The same day she wrote the above, she 
asked the teacher whom she loved best, as the 
friend whose gentle and loving admonitions 
had led her to seek the blessings which had 
descended like heavenly dews upon her soul, 
and filled it with unspeakable joy, to give her 
a medal. The Sister told her she would give 
her one if she would promise to wear it, which 
she did. That medal she never put aside ; it 
was laid with her fair and precious form in the 
grave. She often asked the Sister to whom 
allusion has been, and will be, frequently 


36 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


made in the course of this little work, for ex¬ 
planations of the doctrines and rites of the 
Catholic religion. Her questions were evaded 
under one pretext and another, as it was a vio¬ 
lation of their rule for a teacher to speak of 
religion to a Protestant pupil. When she was 
determined not to be put off thus, they were 
answered as briefly as possible, and under pro¬ 
test, as it were, on account of the rule, the 
Sister telling her she would rather she would 
not ask them, advising her also to meditate 
for herself upon the great truths of religion, 
and to pray fervently for light from Heaven to 
guide her soul. Her frequent expressions 
were, that she read only her Bible, but she 
found confirmation of some Catholic doctrine 
or practice upon every page of it, and that 
many passages which mean nothing to Protest¬ 
ants, were full of significance when placed 
in the light of the Catholic definition of them. 
He who was Truth itself has said of His own, 
“ By their fruits ye shall know them; do men 
gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ?” 

And where can we find a more encouraGTh! 0 * 
illustration of the potency of prayer, pious 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


37 


examples and holy precepts, than in these 
first tokens of the future conversion of our 
interesting young friend to the true faith? 
When we consider the searching scrutiny she 
exercised in observing the lives and conversa¬ 
tions of those around her, without discovering 
anything in their blameless tenor which was 
contrary to the very spirit of the Gospel, or 
would justify the accusations she had been ac¬ 
customed to hear brought against them ; when 
we think of her emotions upon discovering 
the object of the novena which had been as¬ 
cending like incense before the Throne of 
Grace, from the altar of a loving and fervent 
young heart for her eternal welfare ; and of 
the few words spoken by the pious nun, which, 
like seed sown on good soil and moistened by 
the dews of heavenly grace, were destined to 
bring forth fruits for eternity, it should surely 
animate us all, both young and old, to re¬ 
newed fervor in -prayer, and diligence in the 
practice of every duty inculcated by our holy 
religion, that we may thus let our “ Light so 
shine before men, that they, seeing our good 

3 


38 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


works, may glorify our Father which is in 
Heaven!” 

Before the close of the month of April she 
had won for her name a place upon the “ Table 
of Honor,” with those of thirteen others whose 
high merit for progress in their studies, and 
perfect decorum of deportment alone, secured 
that distinction for them. Very few indeed 
are so successful as to attain it within their 
first year as pupils! The last of April she 
was elected by the school as one of the two 
maids of honor to the May Queen, which offices 
were held during the remainder of the year. 
This election marked not only her place upon 
the “ Table of Honor,” as the candidates are 
chosen from its list, but also the high estima¬ 
tion in which she was held by her young com¬ 
panions, the choice having been almost unani¬ 
mous. Speaking of it in a letter to her mo¬ 
ther a few days after, she says : “ I wrote you 

yesterday by B-, but it never entered my 

head to tell you that I have the great distinc¬ 
tion of being one of the May Queen’s maids 
of honor. Perhaps it was from humility that 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


89 


I deferred telling you until my teachers told 
me to, for you are well aware that I have a 
good share of that. But I must enter into the 
subject of my letter, for I have but a few min¬ 
utes, as this must go to-night.” That subject 
was in relation to the white dress necessary 
for the occasion, as they had not yet received 
their summer costumes. The letter she there 
alludes to is, I suppose, the following, written 
a few days previous to the date of that one: 

* * * “Your letter, containing -- dollars, 

was received some time since, and should have 
been answered before this ; but time passes so 
swiftly that days and weeks slip by unheeded, 
and I forget that it is time I should answer 
my letters ; and, besides, every hour in the 
day is adapted to some particular study or 
amusement, and we hardly know how or 
where it goes. After your letter arrived, I 
purchased everything we needed, with the ex¬ 
ception of the things we have at home. You 
asked in your letter if the bonnets and man¬ 
tillas would do for us? Yes, they will, and 
Helen can wear her dress. I would like you 
to bring our barege dresses and my black lace 



40 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


'cape. I think of nothing else at present. I 
was just called down, and received a letter 
from you, saying that the illness of father 
would prevent your coming to see us at pre¬ 
sent. I am sorry, but at the greatest it will 
be about two weeks before we go home. I 
am sorry to hear that father is so unwell, but 
hope his sickness will pass off without any 
serious effects. How is grandmother now? 
Tell her that I hope to see her well enough to 
come down to our house often, while I am at 
home. Give my love to her and all my 
friends, and tell them that they need not ex¬ 
pect me home from home-sickness ; for as sum¬ 
mer advances, I find the convent pleasanter 
than in winter, and as I was very happy 
through that season, I am sure I shall be dur 
ing the summer months. I am very well, and 
Helen is getting so, she looks like a very 
healthy girl* * *” 

When they were preparing for the corona¬ 
tion of the May Queen, she went with the 
companion who had made the novena for her, 
to get a piece of carpet from the sanctuary of 
the young ladies’ chapel, upon the altar of 


THE YOUNG CONVE1.T3. 


41 


which the Blessed Sacrament was also kept. 
When she was within the sanctuary and in 
front of the Tabernacle, never having been so 
near it before, an indescribable feeling of awe 
came over her just as she stooped to take up 
the carpet, and raising her heart towards it 
she breathed within herself, and with humble 
simplicity and sincerity, this aspiration : “ My 
Divine Lord Jesus, if Thou art, as the Catho¬ 
lics believe, really present in that Tabernacle, 
I adore Thee with all the powers of my soul!” 
After saying this in her own mind, the full as 
surance of the truth of that sublime mystery 
which was destined to be from that time as an 
anchor to her soul, sure and firm, stole like a 
flood of light over her spirit, with such over¬ 
whelming power that she was lost to all sense 
of everything around her, for the few mo- 
meets which followed this, her first act of ado¬ 
ration before our Lord in the Blessed 'Eucha 
rlst; when her companions, having spoken to 
her several times, (in a whisper, of course, for 
none may speak aloud in that Presence,) 
touched her upon her shoulder, and, arousing 
her from the joyful contemplation, hurried her 


42 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


away to the scene of their preparations. This 
little incident was recorded in a small memo¬ 
randum-book, which she carried about with 
her, and in which she noted down every event 
of each day. To her great chagrin she lost 
it, but it was afterwards found and preserved, 
by a singular and apparently accidental cir¬ 
cumstance. 

The letter of which the following is a por¬ 
tion, was written on the 15th of May. * * 

“ Mr. B-n called to see us last week. He 

said he had seen father a short time before, 
and told him he would come and see us. He 
seemed to be somewhat surprised at my think¬ 
ing so much of the convent, and had a good 
deal to say about Catholics, etc. He saw, on 
entering the parlor, some paintings and images 
of the Blessed Virgin and saints, and after 
looking at them for some time, he exclaimed, 
‘ What superstition! what idolatry P ‘What 
is it said I. ‘ Why this flummery worship¬ 
ing of saints, images, etc. ; don't you think 
soT said he, addressing me. ‘No/ said I, 
‘ you are very much mistaken ; it is neither 
idolatry nor superstition ; for to begin with 



THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


43 


they do not worship them—it is only honor or 
reverence they give to them : but this is not 
the first time I have heard that Catholics did 
this, and Catholics did that, so I do not find 
it strange. All I know is, that they are very 
different from what I heard they were' He 
said he thought we were kept pretty well by 
our looks, especially Helen. Cora and Sarah 
passed through Montreal about two weeks 
ago ; they stopped to see us, but did not stay 
but a few minutes. How is Cora’s brother ? 
She said she hardly thought he would be alive 
when she got home. * * ” 

Debbie has been described to me by her 
teachers as possessing at that time a rare com¬ 
bination of sprightliness and serenity, which 
imparted a peculiar charm to her character, 
and to her manners a “ nameless grace.” She 
differed in many respects from most girls of 
her age, and manifested none of that affection 
for some particular nun which they are apt to 
show by choosing favorites among them. One 
evening the young ladies were each naming 
her favorite nun, and expatiating upon the 
good qualities for which she admired that fa- 


44 


THE YOUNG CONVENTS. 


voritc, enumerating and reciting these in a 
sort of chant. Debbie remained a silent lis¬ 
tener, when one of them exclaimed : “ Well, 
Miss Barlow, you have said nothing ; who is 
your chosen favorite ?” I love them all I” she 
replied, in her tranquil manner, but with deep 
feeling. “ Oil, what a cold, indifferent person 
you are!” they exclaimed ; “ we do not believe 
you really care for any one1” “ Perhaps,” she 
said, “ if you could see my heart you would 
think quite differently.” Her perfect habits 
in every respect as a pupil seemed to result 
from an innate sense of propriety, which gov¬ 
erned all her movements. Every duty ap¬ 
peared to be performed without an effort. 
Her sweet and engaging modesty, her lovely 
conduct and easy politeness towards all, 
seemed to flow spontaneously from her well- 
regulated heart. These excellences cost her 
no effort, indeed, at the time, but they were 
the result of the exercise on her part of con¬ 
stant and thorough self-discipline. She real¬ 
ized and proved the truth of that maxim of 
the glorious St. Thomas a Kempis, that “ a 
watch over the senses is the foundation of 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


45 


purity, the discipline of peace, and the mirror 
of devotion.” 

It is really lamentable that so few of our 
young people have the courage to exercise 
that vigilance, which would contribute so 
greatly to the augmentation and establishment 
of their prosperity, temporal and spiritual. In 
the regular routine of school life in a convent, 
while there are but few stirring events or va¬ 
ried incidents to busy the pen of the narrator 
or interest the general reader, there is still by 
no means any lack of interesting and even ex¬ 
citing variety to the pupils. Every week is 
enlivened by some affectionate device on the 
part of their teachers for their amusement, 
with which they are often taken by surprise, 
as it were, to enhance the pleasure and to 
promote the object for which they are ex¬ 
pressly designed, by breaking the tranquil 
round that might otherwise become monoto¬ 
nous. Thus, to the pupils, after the first irk¬ 
someness of its discipline and requirements is 
past, time glides imperceptibly and pleasantly 
away, while habits of perfect order in all 
their studies, occupations and recreations, of 


46 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


inestimable value to them in after-life, are as 
imperceptibly acquired and permanently fixed. 

In this manner did it pass with our young' 
friend, when she had become habituated to 
that routine, and she always recurred to those 
months which were most free from any occur¬ 
rences to mark the flight of days and weeks, 
as quite the happiest of her life. When the 
time for the annual examination and vacation 
was approaching, she had become so much at¬ 
tached to her “ convent home,” that she began 
to be oppressed at times with the fear that she 
would not be permitted to return to it at the 
close of the vacation. She was determined, 
howeyer, not to think of a lasting separation, 
which would be so full of grief for her, as 
among the probabilities of her future. Under 
the pressure of these emotions, she wrote the 
following as an interchange with some of the 
dearest of her young friends and class-mates, 
who also offered corresponding written expres¬ 
sions of their sentiments and feelings as the 
time for parting drew near : 

“ Six months !—I can hardly realize that so 
long a time has passed since I came to the 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


47 


convent; it seems rather a few happy days 
with little or nothing to obscure their bright¬ 
ness. For what are the troubles of our school 
days ? Nothing. They pass away with the 
evening sun, leaving behind no trace of sor¬ 
row upon the heart. And here in our peace¬ 
ful home, where everything breathes of naught 
but unity and love, can trouble mar the joys 
of our young hearts? No !—and now that I 
leave my second home for a few short weeks, 

I would fain express my admiration of its pre¬ 
cepts, and my love and gratitude to my teach¬ 
ers. But what pen can portray the feelings of 
a truly grateful heart? Ah! it would require 
one far more able than mine. I could almost 
throw it aside and exclaim, words cannot ex¬ 
press them ! Each day I have seen more to 
admire, more to love—each day found some „ 
new example of the devotedness of those 
under whose care we are placed, some new 
mark of their tender solicitude for our wel¬ 
fare. Here a word of advice, there of en¬ 
couragement, each tending to smooth the little 
impediments we chanced to meet, and urging 
us onward in the path of duty, and at the 


48 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


same time filling the soul with the deepest 
gratitude to those whom we may justly deem 
our truest friends. And now as we are leav¬ 
ing, beloved companions, let the words of ad¬ 
monition we have here received be ever before 
us; some are bidding a last farewell, but I 
have before me the bright prospect of return¬ 
ing to the spot where so many happy hours 
have been spent, and the recollections of 
which memory will ever retain.” 

When her parents came to attend the exam¬ 
ination her worst fears were well nigh con¬ 
firmed, and she saw with the deepest sorrow 
that she w'ould probably be called to endure 
a final separation from all to which she had 
become so strongly attached. Her emotions 
upon leaving the convent were so painful that, 
three years later, when she was with her be¬ 
loved teacher in the convent of St. Eustache, 
she entered upon the fly-leaf of the book in 
which she kept her diary there : “ I came to 
the convent, the first time, on the 9th of Febru¬ 
ary, 1853, and left it the 15th of July, the 
same year. These two days were the most 
unhappy days of my life, but from different 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


40 


causes. The first, because I was unwilling to 
remain in the convent; the second, because I 
had to leave it.” How fully did her experi¬ 
ence here recorded prove both what manner 
of spirit was hers, in her readiness to discard 
prejudice and distrust where she saw the in¬ 
justice of them, and the truth of that saying 
of her favorite, St. Thomas : “ Blessed is the 
simple and the just in whom there is no guile : 
for God is with him in all his works, and 
guiding his feet into the right path and, 
“ He that changeth hie former opinion for a 
better, breaketh not the word of truth!” 

When our young friend returned to her 
home, and was again among the friends of her 
childhood, they all expressed their entire satis¬ 
faction with her remarkable improvement, 
both in mind and person, during so short a 
space of time. I cannot better describe her 
personal appearance at that period, than by 
giving the words of Cardinal Wiseman, in 
his description of the youthful St. Agues, 
whose name was afterwards given to our be¬ 
loved Debbie in baptism. “ In her counte¬ 
nance might be seen united the simplicity of 


50 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


childhood, with the intelligence of a maturer 
age. There not merely dwelt in her eyes that 
dove-like innocence which the sacred poet 
describes (Cant. 1st, 14th), but often there 
beamed from them rather an intensity of pure 
affection as though they were looking beyond 
all surrounding objects, and rested upon One, 
unseen by all else, but to her really present, 
and exquisitely dear. Her forehead was the 
very seat of candor, open and bright with un¬ 
disguised truthfulness ; a kindly smile played 
about the lips, and the fresh, youthful features 
varied their sensitive expression with guileless 
earnestness, passing rapidly from one feeling 
to the other, as her warm and tender heart 
received it.” 

Soon after she reached home, the depressing 
conviction that she should return no more as 
a pupil to her “ dear convent home,” settled 
heavily upon her, causing sensations of “ in¬ 
expressible regret.” The alarm of her de¬ 
voted parents—perfectly kind and indulgent 
in all other respects—was so great, upon dis¬ 
covering the course which her thoughts and 
inclinations were taking in religious matters, 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


51 


that they even forbade her keeping up any 
correspondence with her beloved friends and 
teachers. Her favorite one among these (who 
was now removed to the Mission Convent at 
Yamachiche, where she remained until trans¬ 
ferred from there to St. Eustache,) being 
wholly unconscious of the turn matters had 
taken, awaited for a long time the arrival of 
the promised letter from her dear child, when 
her fears being awakened lest ill health or 
some other accident occasioned her silence, 
she wrote to inquire the reason why she had 
failed to fulfill the promise made at parting. 
The following is an extract from Debbie’s 
reply to that letter : 

“ Fairfield, Sept. 18, 1853. * * You think 
I have forgotten you ; no ! I am not capable 
of forgetting those I love, and, so long as I 
think of friends and kindred, so long will I 

remember ma Tante, St.-; but when this 

heart becomes cold and indifferent , insensible 
to every earthly affection, when it ceases to 
think of friends, then will you be forgotten, 
and not till then ; but methinks that time is 
far distant, far, far! They call me cold- 


52 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 

hearted, ungrateful, but those who say this 
mistake my character and disposition, allow 
me to say ; for, far from being either, I never 
forget a kindness, and I am sorry to add that 
it is not in me naturally to forget an injury ; 
I can forgive , but it is hard to forget. Now, 
my dear Tante, I presume you will say I am 
very ivicked, and that your ‘ pauvre enfant 1 * 
is not much changed, that her head is still the 
same ; but I will leave this for something more 
interesting. My reasons for not returning 
were numerous. I wished to go, but mother 
wished me to remain at home ; she thought it 
was so far away, besides she thought my health 
would suffer should I remain in a convent, and 
many other reasons. My parents and friends 
were much pleased with the improvement I 
made in my studies, etc., etc. Two dear 
cousins of mine are going to Montreal next 
week. I wish you were going to be there to 
teach them French —you had so much patience 
teaching your ‘ joauvre enfant ” 

Her reply to the second letter of this friend 
was written under the fear that if she ex- 


Poor child. 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


53 


pressed what she felt, all correspondence be¬ 
tween them would be forbidden. It was so 
reserved and constrained, so unlike her real 
feelings in its tone, that when she afterwards 
happened to find the letter, while remaining 
for a year with her friend and teacher at St. 
Eustache, she destroyed it. Soon after she re¬ 
ceived the reply to it, she went to St. Albans 
to pass some days with a female relative from 
another place, to whom she was very fondly 
attached, and who was then stopping a few 
days in a hotel at St. Albans. While there, 
she wrote, under the sanction of the relative 
mentioned, (who fully reciprocated the affec¬ 
tion of the beloved child, and who, though a 
Protestant, thought the opposition to her feel¬ 
ings had been carried too far, and would, if 
continued, defeat its own object by securing 
the dreaded result,) the letter, a portion of 
which I shall here give. It was dated “ St. 
Albans, Dec. 23, 1853,” and began with apol¬ 
ogies for the coolness of her last, and expla¬ 
nations of the reasons, manifesting in a most 
affecting manner the conflict between her de¬ 
sire of rendering strict obedience to the re- 


54 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


quirements of those nearest and dearest to 
her—and whose wishes she sincerely respect¬ 
ed—and the warm impulses which moved her 
to express the deep and abiding affection and 
confidence she entertained towards the friend 
who was, next to them, dearer to her than all 
others; while she knew that the injunctions 
requiring her to make so painful a sacrifice of 
her own feelings were the result of a total 
misapprehension of the real truth on the part 
of those imposing them, and continued : “ I 
have searched earnestly and with an unpreju¬ 
diced mind, as far as I had the opportunity, 
the catechisms, records and writings of the 
Church of Christ—you understand me, the 
Catholic —and as I told you often, very often, I 
found much in it to admire. I have not 
changed in that respect. I came home with 
a mind very different from what it was pre¬ 
vious to my going to the convent, and my 
friends soon discovered it. Not that € ever 
expressed a wish to unite with the Church. 
No 1 I was not yet prepared to judge of the 
other sects of Christians, and I felt that I 
must look for a while upon their reasonings in 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


55 


regard to the matter ; and I have. I have 
read and conversed with many, and have at 
last decided to be guided by faith and my own 
reason. I have heard the Catholics ridiculed 
and assailed in every possible manner, not by 
my own relatives more than by others. It 
has seemed to me that it would amount to 
more than three months taken together, that 
I have spent talking with ignorant, supersti¬ 
tious, willfully blind and intolerant Protest¬ 
ants. I could not avoid it. One would come 
in, ‘ Well, Debbie, I hear you are a Catholic/ 
and from that would run on until I have been 
compelled by my own conscience and better 
feelings to stand up in defense, as far as I was 
able, of a religion I respected and in many 
things loved. I would not, and I will not, sit 
and hear a person ignorant or not, so go on 
with rail-road speed against the clergy or the 
religious orders of females in the Catholic 
Church ; that I cannot put up with. At last 
I have refused to hear anything in reference 
to the matter unless they asked these questions 
in a civil, respectful manner. I have had con¬ 
troversies and conversations, etc., etc., until 


56 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


I am tired of the name of Church, and feel 
perfectly reckless. * * * I will defend the 
nuns, no matter where they are, and if the in¬ 
ference they deduce from this is that I am 
going to become a Catholic, they are at liberty 
to do so. I have a relation whom I am stop¬ 
ping with now, and who is very kind and con¬ 
siderate for me. She has just given me a 
large beautiful gold cross. I shall value it 
very highly. At the hotel where I am now 
stopping there is a lovely woman boarding, 
who is a convert from Protestantism to Catho¬ 
licity. She lost her only daughter last spring, 
and she had spent some time in the Convent of 
the Sacred Heart in New York. She wishes 
me to give her love to you. She thinks nuns 
are perfect. She that was Jennie Hall (now 
Mrs. Lynn,) is failing very fast; she cannot 
live but a short time ; she told me she would 
write to the convent, but she was not able. 
She is very happy, and seems to welcome 
death almost.” 

Not long after the foregoing was written 
Debbie and Helen visited friends in Highgate 
and Burlington, and after their return to Fair- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


5T 


field they attended school there together. 
April 23d, 1854, Debbie writes from Fair- 
field. * * * “ I am attending school, and en¬ 
joying myself very ^ell. I often wish to see 
you, my true friend, and very often speak of 
you as such—so often, that I am accused of 
thinking of little else but my convent home 
and its inmates. * * * ” A little more than a 
month later we have the following in a letter 
to the same friend : “ Fairfield, Sunday eve- 
ning, May 28, 1854. * * * It is a lovely 
night—calm and serene as a summer evening. 
A cool refreshing shower has added new 
beauties to nature, and only a slight breeze, 
which I can imagine is like the floating of 
angels’ wings around us, disturbs the air. Yet 
afar off I hear the murmuring of a rivulet and 
the hum of children’s voices in their youth¬ 
ful sports. It is truly an hour I love. Afar / 
afar ! metliinks I hear the low chimes of con¬ 
vent bells as they sound the hour at which we 
were wont to retire ; and imaginations which 
are now vividly cherished by me, bid my eyes 
gaze upon a scene of uncommon interest—a 
number of young girls ascending steps which 


58 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


lead to a little chapel, unassuming in its ap¬ 
pearance, but whose precincts are hallowed 
beyond description. They enter there, and 
every knee is bent, every head is bowed, and 
all pride, envy, hatred and jealousy are (or 
should be) buried, i* * * A pale lamp burns 
steadily before the Blessed Sacrament of the 
altar, shedding its rays upon the sacred 
walls, and reminding each soul which there 
presents itself, of the bright light of faith 
which should reign in our hearts. Prayers 
from the lips of youth, blessed beyond the 
reach of a doubt by faith, ascend to the throne 
of the Most High God. And the sweet Ves¬ 
per Hymn to the Blessed Mother of Christ 
rises upon the evening silence,with oft-repeat¬ 
ed petitions for her intercession. And the 
slow, measured steps of those children, as they 
leave this place of prayer, show with what 
reverence they regard the sacred spot. Yes I 
my dear Tante, I often, very often, let my im¬ 
agination rove to those scenes. Do you, can 
you, think I have forgotten them ? They re¬ 
main in my heart, sealed in the casket of mem¬ 
ory, and I look back upon those days as some 


THE YOUNG CONVERT?. 


59 


of the happiest of my life. Helen has been 
very sick with inflammation of the stomach 
and bowels. She never was so ill in her life 
before, and she is now very miserable. Her 
strength left her entirely, so much so that she 
had to be taken the same care of that a child 
would. I have been confined to the sick room 
so long that I have written no letters to any 
one. You will excuse my long silence, will 
you not ? * * * I am not ungrateful; no, I am 
not! Accuse me of anything else, but not of 
that! I love the nuns, and shall ever remem¬ 
ber their kindness to me. They may think I 
have forgotten long ere this. * * * * Some 
one has been in my room to-day to see Helen, 
and you never heard so much fuss as was made 
of me (afterwards) about a table in my room 
on which was a cross, my two Catholic prayer- 
books, my chaplet, a picture of an Angel 
Ouardian, an image of the Blessed Virgin, 
a picture of St. Joseph, and another of the 
Blessed Virgin and Infant Jesus, oil the pic¬ 
tures given me in the convent, and two vases 
of flowers that I had gathered from the gar¬ 
den to ornament the table. My books were 


60 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


examined, etc., etc., comments made upon this 
and that, and I let them proceed. I told 
them these things put me in mind of the con¬ 
vent, and I loved to look at them. They 
thought I had better go up and unite with the 
* Romish Church I told them I did not know 
but I should unite with the Catholic Church.” 

Again, from a letter dated Fairfield, June, 
1854, I extract a portion : “ Oh, ma Tante! it 
is a happy thought to think that I am cared 
for, prayed for by you ! and now, in the silent 
loneliness of my own room, I look back upon 
. the past, and recall your kind look, your ap¬ 
proving glance, and wish I could once more 
behold them! Here, alone by my couch, I ask 
God to bless your life, to add new joys to your 
heart, quicken you by His Divine Presence, and 
receive you in his eternal home at last, where 
amid an angel-band (and pure as they), I some¬ 
times imagine I see you now. Would that I 
could think I should meet the good and the 
just there; should see their robes washed 
white in the blood of the Lamb, and stand 
among them ! Heaven seems to me such a 
Home! prepared by Him, that I long some- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


61 


times to see its glories ; but as I listen to my 
feelings a voice asks me, ‘ Are you prepared 
to die V If I were prepared I would go wil¬ 
lingly. * * * Fairfield, June 25th, 1854. * * 
I think of you often and often , and shall be 
under obligations while life lasts and perhaps 
in eternity . * * * I am assailed on all sides 
by those who think I am willing to become 
less ignorant than I formerly was. I am ridi¬ 
culed ; yes, more than that! But my God 
knows I will not yield, with His help—Ilis 
grace! I am here and must now conform to 
many things which I fain would not ; but I 
will satisfy them. I will peruse their blasphe¬ 
mous writings, and if I can find anything pure 
I will subtract it from the impure. I will give 
them their due . I will know the faith of all; 
indeed, I do know much now, and I find no¬ 
thing congenial to my feelings but the One 
True Faith ! To-day I went to the Presbyte¬ 
rian Church, and when I had heard the ser¬ 
mon about half through, lo ! Popery mus.t take 
a thump ! He said it was nothing but Pagan¬ 
ism with another name! that the Catholics had 

no light from Heaven ! no lights of Revelation 1 

6 * 


G2 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


that the heads of that Church were among the 
most licentious of earth! and, finally, that on 
the very face of the Church were marked those 
words, (which St. John applied to Pagan Rome) 
—I will not repeat them; read for yourself, ma 
Tante, the 17 th Chapter, 5th verse of Revela¬ 
tions ! I listened; I grew dizzy and blind! but 
took my shawl and walked out of the church; 
I was obliged to sit in the porch until I grew 
composed, and then came home. Some one 
asked my mother, why I came out of the 
church ? and she told them, ‘ Debbie would not 
hear the Catholic Church talked about in that 
way, and so she came home.’ I suppose the 
whole town will be up in arms about it! I do 
not know but they will mob me. Ha! ha! 
This morning in St. Albans, (where I went to 
attend church,) at the administration of the 
Blessed Sacrament, the rail around the chancel 
at the grand altar was filled with Americans, 
who have been converted to the Catholic faith 
within the last few years, and they all reside 
there, with the exception of a family from 
Philadelphia, and two or three from an adjoin¬ 
ing town.” 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


63 


There is no further communication from her 
until Not., 1854, when she writes from Fair- 
field. * * * “Your dear kind letter,ma Tante, 
was received last night, and I would fain ex¬ 
press to you my thanks for your kindness in 
writing to me again. My reasons for not 
answering your former one, were that I was 
fw'bidden that pleasure; I will be plain in 
speaking to you, my friend, (for I consider you 
as such,) my trials I believe increase, for I am 
plain in telling them that I shall unite with 
the Church which I consider as right. I have 
been debarred the pleasure of going to Mass 
until the last two months, when I told them I 
would never step inside a Protestant Church, 
(excuse me, I mean meeting house) if they did 
not allow me to go ; but they would not let 
me; and I then sat, Sunday after Sunday, by 
my window and looked at the Catholic chapel 
while the Blessed Sacrifice of the Mass was 
offered up. Finally they told me to go if 1 
wished to, and I went. After that the Catho¬ 
lics were ridiculed by my acquaintances more 
and more, and the next Sunday there was 
Mass they would not let me go. I then made 


64 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


this agreement: I told them if they would let 
me go to Mass once a fortnight, that is as 
often as it is here, I would go to Protestant 
meetings the remainder of the time, until I 
joined the Church. This suited pretty well, 
and with a good deal of ridicule they allow me 
to go. Last Sunday, the Bishop of Burlington 
and two priests, beside our priest that preaches 
here, came to Fairfield and staid until Tuesday 
noon. I went to Mass on Sunday morning. Mr. 
McGowan, our priest, came and spoke to me, 
and asked if I would like an introduction to 
the Bishop. I told him I would. He said 
after Mass he would introduce me to him. 
Mother was with me, and she said so much 
against it after Mr. McGowan left, that I 
would not stay to see the Bishop, but I sent 
word to Father McGowan that he could de¬ 
duce his own inference from my going. I 
formed some acquaintance with him about a 
year ngo, and he has heard something from a 
lady in this place about the opposition I met 
with. I have never conversed with him at all. 
Monday morning I went to two Masses and 
heard a sermon. I was alone ; our family did 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


65 


not go, so I found my way to the vestry and 
saw the Bishop. His name is DeGoesbriand. 
He told me he saw the Sisters of the Congre¬ 
gation a short time ago, and that they spoke of 
me to him. He talked with me some, and I 
like him very much. Tuesday I went to Mass 
and heard a sermon. My God knows hoio 1 
enjoyed myself! To-day there is no Catholic 
service, and I have been to a Protestant meet¬ 
ing ; ma Tante, it is a real penance , I assure 
you! Next Sunday I long for ; then there is 
Mass again! The whole town are giving me 
up as one blinded by errors , they say. Poor 
people! they know not that within my heart, 
amid all my trials, there reigns a peace which 
the world can never give! They know not that 
the Arm of the Almighty sustains me! They 
know not that my prayers are constantly 
offered up to the Throne of the Most High 
for tlieir good! When I tell them that my 
constant prayer is to have my faith increased, 
they tell me, I can never find faith in the Catho¬ 
lic Church! Oh! then, where can I find it if 
not there? No whereI Oh give me faith, faith 

which, like a rock afar off in the distant seas, 
e* 


66 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


though the waves and storms of life beat for- 
ever against it, shall still be immovable! I do 
not wish to murmur ; no ! far from it, my trials 
will not compare with what others have suf¬ 
fered, and do suffer, for the same; I am not 
right, perhaps even to mention them. If I am 
not, may Heaven forgive me! I have, perhaps, 
lost the esteem of some by my adherence to 
Catholic principles, if so I cannot help it. I 
trust that you always pray for me. Remember 
me always, for I would ever live in the memo¬ 
ries of those who led me to the truth. I often 
think of my convent home ; it is still very dear 
to me, but I fear I shall never return to it as a 
school-girl. I may visit it. Oh! how I long 
for the time to come when once more I shall be¬ 
hold [its peaceful walls! and if I live I shall, for 
I mean to visit Montreal some time. Give my 
love to all, and tell them to pray for Debbie.” 

“Fairfield, Dec. 17, 1854—Pardon me, I 
pray, for not answering your kind letter 
sooner. I should have done so, but I have 
not been very well, and for some other reasons, 
perhaps ,too trifling to mention. I was pleased 
to hear from you, and I know } r our prayers 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


67 


arc ever raised for me, to the Throne of the 
Most High. The pure truths you speak in 
your letters, endear them much to me. To¬ 
day has proved to me again, that my prayers 
should be strong and fervent. I have been 
to Mass, and oh ! how my soul longed to join 
the few who knelt and received the Body and 
Blood of Jesus Christ! Oh! the presence of 
Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament!—how glori¬ 
ous! how consoling the thought! Who, ivho 
can doubt it, ma Tante, if they knew the hap¬ 
piness of one who believes in the Real Pres¬ 
ence how they would sigh for that Faith ! Do 
you not think so ? My kind friend, you ask 
me if I wear the medal. Yes, I do : and I 
forget not my Mother, if so I may call the 
Blessed Virgin. I presume I am sometimes 
heedless, and forget my duty, but I trust my 
God forgets me not. How thankful I should 
be that He has given me the grace to see the 
true way , I was reading to-night in my 
pr ayer-bo ok, this passage : “Where much is 
given, much will be required.” Then how 
much will Almighty God require of me ! I 
have been blessed! oh, how much ; and my 


68 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


life ought to be spent better than I now spend 
it. * * * I still attend Mass, when it is- 
celebrated here, though sometimes with trou¬ 
ble, for my friends oppose me as much as ever. 
I try to follow all the rules of the Catholic 
faith as well as I can, but here I have no 
friend to advise me, none to consult with, and 
I have no reading-matter ; that is, no books 
and papers. Protestants put plenty of their 
books into my hands, and I read them all. A 
short time since a lady visited our house, who 
is the wife of a Presbyterian clergyman. In 
the course of the conversation, the ‘ Romish 
Church 7 was called up, and she remarked in 
this manner : ‘Well, I believe if there is a 
bottomless pit in the future world, the Catholic 

priests will go there ! 5 ‘Mrs- 7 said I, ‘ it 

is not for you to judge where they will go/ 
From this a conversation commenced in which 
she told me that Catholics believed their 
priests infallible; that for money they could 
get tlieir sins pardoned by a priest ! That the- 
Catholic Church had destroyed the second 
commandment of God , andiuorshiped images!!' 
and that they gave more honor to the Blessed 



THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


6<> 

Virgin than to God!!! By the way, she con¬ 
sidered ‘ the Mother of Christ as a very good 
sort of a woman, but no better than any other 
Christian !’ These are her precise words, and 
I could not convince her that Catholics did not 
believe the first of her remarks! She knew 
Letter than I did , of course! I asked her if 
she had ever read any Catholic books. ‘ No r 
and she never wished to P (Of course I 
thought her particularly ivell qualified to give 
reliable information on the subject, after that 
admission.) Among other things, she said 
that convents were horrid places , and nuns 
awful creatures ! I have told you this, as aa 
example of my daily confabs.” 

About two months after the date of this 
letter, her parents decided to send her and 
her sister Helen to Fairfax, a village a few 
miles from Fairfield, where there is a flourish¬ 
ing institution under the direction of the 
Baptist sect. They chose this place, both oa 
account of its convenience of access for them¬ 
selves, that they might sec their daughters 
frequently, and doubtless because they also 
hoped that the close attention to study there 


70 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS- 


required, and an entire separation from all 
Catholic influences and associations, might 
divert the mind of Debbie from the contem¬ 
plation of religious subjects. Soon after they 
went there, she wrote to the same friend at 
Yamachiche, to whom most of her letters are- 
addressed : 

“Fairfax, March , 1855. * * I thank 

you very much for the beautiful little picture 
you sent, and I assure you I shall treasure it 
with much care. It is decidedly lovely. The 
face of the Infant Jesus is so sweet, and that 
of our holy Mother. Oh ! why is it that such 
pictures inspire us with greater love for the 
originals ? Do you know, ma Tante ? I know 
it is so. I must tell you how much my pictures 
are admired. I look them over very often r 
and I am often requested to show them. I 
explain the design as well as I can to them,, 
and they frequently exclaim, ‘ How beautiful!. 
how lovely F I generally tell them truly that 
this is only the commencement, only the first 
step, or one of the least of the beauties of 
Catholicity. I am here in Fairfax attending 
school. I did intend to go to Burlington, but 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


71 


my parents preferred to have me here, so here 
I am. No Catholic Church ; no Catholics. 
The school is large, and a very good one, I 
should judge. Most of the people of this 
place hate the Catholics bitterly, and have 
very strange ideas concerning them. Almost 
every one had heard before I came here, that 
I was, in sentiment, a Roman Catholic. I 
said nothing, but the first morning that I went 
into the school I had about my neck my cross 
and medal. After I came away, and reached 
my boarding-place, a young lady told me that 
she heard it remarked by several that the 
eldest Miss Barlow was a Catholic. ‘ Is it 
so V said she. 1 1 believe it is/ said I, and no 
more was said. I suspect I am an object of 
pity among them all. My sentiments arc the 
same that they were when I left the convent. 
I find no Church as yet whose precepts and 
faith I love as I do the Catholic. I am sure 
that I have chance enough to find the true 
faith if it is to be found among the Protestant 
churches ; but I find it not there. I still love 
the faith professed in my convent home. It is 
still dear to me, and it is not because I have 


72 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


constant intercourse with Catholics, or have 
their books to read. I see but very little of 
educated, intelligent Catholics. I have never 
seen any priest, with the exception of Father 
McGowan twice, and the Bishop of Burling¬ 
ton once. I have no books except those two 
you gave me, and one of them a young lady 
from Burlington has borrowed. You perceive 
I have not much to guide me ; no, nothing but 
the Hand of God alone. Oh! I pray that I 
may not go astray from the path of right! 
May my steps be guided in the only true and 
'pure religion. Every one opposes me as much 
as ever. My father I care for most of all. 
He worships me, I know. Every one says he 
loves me better than any of his other chil¬ 
dren. * * * * I am liarrassed to death by 
people talking against the Church and against 
me ; but I do not care. I must believe what 
God has directed me to. It is a hard hill 
which I am striving to ascend, but I hope that 
I may not faint until the summit is gained. 
Sometimes I think a strong arm is thrown 
around me, and then new strength is added to 
my weariness, and a hand seems pointing to 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


73 


the Cross and urging me onivard. And often¬ 
times I almost imagine that a sweet voice 
whispers, ‘ My child I will pray for thee /’ and 
my petition is, ‘ Sweet Mother, pray for thy 
feeble but trusting child.’ With our Hea¬ 
venly Father’s care, the love of Jesus , and the 
prayers of the Blessed Virgin, can I, oh can I 
wander from the truth ? I have told you 
plainly my feelings, and if they change , you 
shall know it. There is a young lady going 
from this place to the convent in Montreal in 
about three weeks, and there has one gone. 
Every one is wonderfully concerned about 
them. * * *” 

In her next, written during the same month 
and from the same place, the following pas¬ 
sages occur : 

“ Let me tell you, my friend, distinctly—1 
want you to understand me fully —I am a 
Catholic, firm and unyielding. I believe it is 
the only true Church , and the only one with 
which I shall ever unite myself. You ask me 
what I “ intend to do ?” I am assailed by 
every one. In fact, I do not have one 
moments peace any where. My parents are 


74 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


bitterly opposed to the Catholics. * * * 
But Heaven help me I will be firm. * * * I 
shall be more a Catholic when I leave this 
school than ever before. * * * I have not 
told you much about the school, have I? I 
will say a few words before I close my letter. 
It is a Protestant school, in every sense of the 
word, and we are obliged to attend prayers 
and go to their church, etc. Last Sunday, I 
heard a sermon which was strong against the 
‘ Romanists] as they term us. The sum and 
amount of it was, that the Catholic Church 
taught salvation by works, and not by faith. 
I smiled at their ignorance, and gave it no fur¬ 
ther thought.” 

The next letter was written from Fairfax in 
April, about two weeks before the close of the 
spring term of the school. She doubted whe¬ 
ther she should return for the next term, 
though Helen probably would. Her mother 
was contemplating a visit to her friends in the 
western country, and she might be needed at 
home during the absence of her mother. She 
speaks in the most moving terms of her strong 
desire to visit Montreal after the return of her 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


75 


mother, but did not dare indulge the hope 
that her wish would be granted, and adds : 

“I am really feeling bad enough these days ; 
everything looks dark. My friends all against 
me, and God alone my refuge! Why, ma 
Tante ! look at that last sentence again! I 
did not mean to write it just so. I ought to 
be satisfied with a kind friend in Heaven for 
my refuge. You understand me, do you not? 
But I know that in becoming a Catholic I 
lose many who have been warm friends of 
mine. This I do not care for; I gain far more 
than I lose . But I sometimes feel very sad 
that my parents are so opposed. It seems 
hard. * * * I wish they would read , but 
no, they will not; but they wish me to, every 
Protestant work that I can find ; and I read 
every thing in the shape of argument, that I 
could get hold of against the Catholics, but 
my heart is just as much there as ever ; it can 
be no where else. 1 Catholic I am, Catholic I 
must be fi These are the words I addressed 
to a Protestant lady in this place, some time 
since. I am going to have some books soon. 
I had a letter from Caro. G- a few weeks 



76 


TIIE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


since. She is in Albany, at the convent of the 
Sacred Heart. * * * She seemed to recall 
the associations connected with our bright 
days in Montreal, with much pleasure. I was 
rejoiced to hear from ma Tante, in Mon¬ 
treal, that I had been received into the society 
of the Children of Mary at the Convent. Oh, 
how often I wish to be there, if only for 
one hour , if not more! I have yet to find a 
place I love so well. Every evening my 
thoughts are with the dear inmates as they go 
to their beloved chapel, and before Him who 
is there present, my soul bows down as in days 
goneby, and lingers to tell its sorrows and 
its trials to that dear Saviour. 7 ’ 

About a week later, she wrote to another 
lady of the congregation who was deeply in¬ 
terested in her. The following is a portion of 
that letter: 

“ Fairfax, April 26, 1855. * * * Would 
that I could follow the example of our sweet 
Mother in all things! and I promise you to 
imitate her virtues as far as I am able. I hope 
you will pray for me that I may succeed, in a 
measure, at least. Jennie says you asked her 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


71 


who selected my books ? Who selects them ? 
I can answer very easily— Protestants ! The 
purest works of Protestants, Divines of all 
sorts, are given me to read, and I have read 
them carefully and candidly. I do not think 
it would hurt any of my Catholic friends to 
read what I have, for they are very harmless l 
I think I am more of a Catholic when I finish 
one of those books, than I was when I com¬ 
menced ! I sometimes think people do not 
care what I like or do not like. In this place 
it is no matter what is said to injure a Catho¬ 
lic's feelings. They are of no consequence. 
But, thank Heaven, I am a Catholic ; nor 
would I change my faith for all of theirs 1” 
About that time a distressing occurrence in 
that vicinity caused the deepest regret to the 
children of the Church, and gave its enemies 
an opportunity which, in accordance with their 
accustomed vigilance and malice, they did not 
by any means fail to improve to the utmost 
by spreading accounts of the circumstance 
abroad, with multiplied exaggerations and 
triumphant-sneers. After alluding briefly to 
the circumstance, in a letter to Yamachiche, 


78 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


and to the grief and reproach which the scan¬ 
dal had brought upon her innocent spirit, she 
says: “ I have only to summon up all my 
courage to endure and face all such things. I 
am often asked the question, ‘ Do you not 
wish you had never gone to a convent ? then 
you would never have been a Catholic.’ Oh, 
ma Tante ! I would not give up my belief in 
the Catholic religion if I could be assured of 
a long and perfectly happy life here by so 
doing ! There is such peace to be found there! 
Oh, Heaven forbid that I should ever retrace 
my steps and wander farther from the fold of 
the Good Shepherd. Some call me an enthu¬ 
siast ; others say I must have had very little 
stability of character to go from Protestantism 
to Catholicity. But why should I care? If 
I am confident that our heavenly Father will 
strengthen me in my course, I am sure I ought 
to forget these little trials. I am not striving 
now to please the world , but a higher object is 
mine, I trust.” 

The justice of the charges (almost invaria¬ 
bly urged against converts to the Catholic 
faith,) that she “ had very little stability of 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


79 


character,' was sufficiently tested by her con¬ 
duct. We have yet to learn the meaning of 
the qualification, if her consistent, steady 
course of action from first to last was not one 
of its most complete illustrations. We have 
frequently heard it attributed to persons of va¬ 
rious grades of intelligence and character, be¬ 
cause they remained unchanged in their reli¬ 
gious sentiments by the influences of a convent 
course, for a longer or shorter period, (some of 
them for several consecutive years,) whose 
subsequent lives proved most conclusively that 
their shield against those influences was simply 
entire indifference to all religion , and whose 
conduct in other matters connected with their 
social and domestic relations, declared as 
great a deficiency in that sort of stability as 
we have ever seen exhibited. Contrary to 
Debbie’s expectations, she returned to Fair¬ 
fax at the close of the vacation, for the sum¬ 
mer term, and the next letter to Yamachiche, 
which was preserved, was written from that 
place. 

“July, 1855. * * I think my parents are 
getting more resigned to my being a Catholic, 


80 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


though I do not know how long it will last. 
When I was at home, they told me that if I 
mtist be a Catholic, they supposed I must; but 
they thought I could not be in my right mind. 
I think I shall persuade them to let me go to 
Montreal when the year closes, and then I 
hope to unite with the Church. Oh, what a 
blessed season that would be for me. But I 
hope against fear ; and, therefore, will not an¬ 
ticipate too much now. I earnestly pray the 
day may soon arrive when I shall be within 
that one fold, whose Shepherd is Christ.* *” 
She laid this letter aside when she had written 
thus far, to write one to her father, begging of 
him to permit her to accompany a very agree¬ 
able party of ladies and gentlemen, who had 
politely invited her to join them, and who 
were going, the latter part of the month, from 
Fairfax, Sheldon, Highgate iind Swan ton, to 
Montreal. The two young ladies whom she 
mentioned as having gone to the convent from 
Fairfax, were expected to return home with 
the party. After entreating to be permitted 
to go, she adds : “ If I go, I shall stay at the 
Mountain school most of the time. I have 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


81 


had a very polite invitation from the nuns to 
make them a visit, and as many of the young 
ladies who are now there, leave this fall, I 
would rather go now than later. And now, 
father, as far as some other matters are con¬ 
cerned, you know what I would like to do; 
not because my friends are opposed to it, not 
that as far as worldly interests are concerned, 
I shall be any better off, neither is it because 
a proselyting influence has been thrown around 
me ; this,is not so. It is because I think it is 
duty. But I will say no more ; I will leave 
you to choose as you think best. But one 
word more I will say ; I shall be no ivorse 
than I now am. I shall be Debbie , still!” 
Her request received an absolute refusal as to 
all its features, and she concludes the letter to 
her friend, which was laid aside until she 
should hear from her father, thus : 

“ My parents will not consent to my going 
to Canada, as I wrote to you that I wished to. 
They had rather have me go any other way ; 
but I do not wish to go from home, again, 
until I am able to say, I am a Catholic. Yes ! 
I wish the world to know it. I have received 


82 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


some books from Jennie—one, the £ * Imitation 
of Christ,” another, the “ Trials of a Mind,” 
by Dr. Ives, formerly Bishop of the Protestant 
Episcopal Church, of North Carolina. I can¬ 
not find much more to write now, unless I 
make myself the subject. I am not sure it 
will prove a very interesting one, but will say 
a few words. You know 1 am the same in my 
determination to be a Catholic, and I feel that 
my Father in Heaven will support me in all 
my difficulties. Yes, His arm is mighty, and 
why need I fear? I am sure the Mother of 
our Divine Redeemer will ever intercede for 
me, if I look to her with confidence. I know I 
am each day getting more courageous, and 
strength from on High is given me. I hope 
the day will ere long arrive, when I can say 
that I am a Catholic ; when the world can 
assail me if it chooses, and I can fly to that 
Church, to Her sacraments , for consolation in 
my trials and afflictions. Sometimes I think 
I cannot wait; but I am sure the day is not 
far distant when I shall be received into the 
bosom of t!iat Church, whose teachings are 
purity itself .” 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


83 


During the same week, in which the conclu¬ 
ding part of the foregoing letter was written, 
she wrote the one which contains what fol¬ 
lows, to a member of the Congregation, 
in Montreal. It was in reply to the one con¬ 
veying the invitation alluded to in her letter, 
to her father : 

“My Dear Tante : You know not how often 
I have thought of my convent home, within the 
last few weeks, and my heart has yearned to 
be with you there, but the sad thought that I 
could not , has prevented my writing. Do not 
think that Debbie has forgotten her land and 
true friends. No, she has not. The intelli¬ 
gence I have to convey, in this letter, is what 
I disliked to w r rite. I begin to think, ma 
Tante, that I am going to be denied the plea¬ 
sure of ever seeing the convent again. I can 
obtain no consent from my parents to return 
there, and what can I do ? I thought I should 
make my first communion where I first learned 
to love the Catholic religion, but it seems to 
be ordered otherwise. I think I have waited 
long enough , for the consent of my friends to 
my union with the Holy Catholic Church.” * * 


84 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


Courage! oh, trembling soul! fear not! 
“ Abide in truth and in charity, and thus slialt 
thou be pleasing to God, to angels, and to 
good men.” Oh, that thine eyes could be 
opened this day, as were those of the prophet’s 
servant of old, to see even now' in this thy 
hour of greatest danger ; while thou art en¬ 
compassed and beleaguered by the hostile 
powers of the world, the flesh, and the devil, 
joined and arrayed in all their strength against 
thee ; that “ they who are for thee,” are more, 
far more, than “ they who are against thee!” 
that the Holy Virgin Mother, in whose aid 
thou hast so confidently trusted, has obtained 
of the Majesty of Heaven, that “ horses and 
chariots of fire” should be placed between 
thee and the enemies of thy salvation ; that 
the wings of the most potent of Heaven’s high 
Hosts should be spread over and around thee, 
to hide thee beneath their shadow, to enfold 
thee in their protecting embrace. Courage, 
child of Heaven! for prayers are floating up¬ 
ward like clouds to the Throne of God, from 
innumerable souls for thee! from many pre¬ 
cious hearts of His chosen servants, that are 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


85 


the consecrated altars of His love; from 
many others which are, with their overflowing 
piety, the sole earthly endowments of their 
possessors, the poor, the despised, and the hid¬ 
den of this world, rich in the wealth of Hea¬ 
ven. How many lioary-lieaded saints among 
these, are bending their trembling knees before 
the Throne of Grace, and lifting up their 
hands to Heaven’s high courts for thee, 
through each hour of the day, yea, and even 
“ preventing the night watches ” also, with 
their untiring supplications ! What hosts of 
thy invisible spiritual enemies, 0 daughter of 
Faith! are even now fettered and crippled— 
raging in impotent fury against the strong 
links of the holy Rosary , which have subdued 
and bound them. How many of them are retir¬ 
ing even into deeper, darker depths of despair, 
than was their portion before, “ struck with a 
sudden blindness ” while in pursuit of thee; 
and the flaming swords they had raised 
against thee, turned powerless away, by the 
interposing and embracing folds of the holy 
Scapular, which its faithful disciples have 
drawn as a curtain around thee! Courage 


86 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


then, and let thy motto still be “ Excelsior!” 
until thou hast attained the “ summit ” of that 
“ hard hill ” which thou art striving with such 
steadfast trust and perseverance to ascend ! 

After the close of the summer term of the 
school on the 26th of July, she went to visit 
friends in Burlington and Ferrisburgh. She 
wrote to her friends at Yamachiche : 

“Ferrisburgh, Aug. 27th, 1855, Tuesday 
Morning. * * You perceive I have left * 
Fairfax; and am at this place, making my 
friends a short visit. I have been in Burling¬ 
ton for the past two weeks, and am to return 
there again, Thursday morning. 1 am not 
going to remain in Fairfax any longer, but 
shall be at home for some weeks, and I do not 
know where I shall go next. How I wish 
Montreal was my destination! You know I 
thought of going to Montreal this summer ; it 
was a trial, I assure you, to give it up, and I 
do not know now, when I shall go. I think I 
make some progress in getting the good will of 
my friends on the side of Catholic faith and 
principles ; and though they are still much op¬ 
posed, yet I can see there is a change , and I do 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


87 


trust the light of that day is slowly but surely 
dawning, when they will willingly say, ‘ You 
are on the side of Truth * * I do not feel 
as if the trials I have passed through are all 
for naught—no! oh, no ! There are others 
within the circle of my dear friends who ivill 
yet follow in the way of Truth ! Even look at 
my sisters. Their sympathies are all awakened 
for me, and the course my relatives have taken 
has made them feel as though ‘ Debbie ’ was 
right, or she would have given up before this! 
Two of my sisters, though quite young, one 
being fourteen and the other eleven, are really 
giving some uneasiness, because they are not 
willing to go to Protestant meeting, when 
there is Mass. Many times I have started for 
Mass, in the morning, and left them both weep¬ 
ing, because they were not allowed to go with 
me. I feel, sometimes, a responsibility resting 
upon me, which I need much Divine strength 
to assist me in being accountable for, in a 
right manner. I trust there is nothing that 
will prevent me from doing my duty, as far as 
I am able. Every day, almost, I find some 
new friends ; some who can feel what my true 


88 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


situation is. Last week, or rather two weeks 
ago, when on my way to Burlington, I got as 
far as St. Alban’s, and supposed I must remain 
all day at the hotel. Father was with me, and 
what was my astonishment, after having been 
there an hour, to have him come into the par¬ 
lor, and introduce a gentleman to me, as Mr. 
Hoyt, in whom I recognized a person of whom 
I had heard, who was formerly a Protestant 
clergyman, but who had the happiness of be¬ 
coming a Catholic, some years ago. He 
invited me to spend the day at his house, and 
I did so. I found his wife one of the most 
lovely ladies I ever met, ahd they have a beau¬ 
tiful family of children. They are true Catho¬ 
lics, and in them I feel as if I had found true 
friends, and those near home. They have 
become Catholics, after having been for years 
in the Protestant communion, and they know 
ivhat a person has to pass through in changing 
their religious creed.” 

Her next letter was addressed to the same 
friend, dated at Fairfield, Nov. 20, 1855. 
After great surprise that “ma Tante” had 
not received any letters since August, as 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


89 


she had written regularly to her, she adds : 
“ When your letter came to Fairfield, I was 
in St. Alban’s. I went there to do some shop¬ 
ping, and remained two days. While there I 
made arrangements to be received into the 
Church, and one week from next Saturday 
will, I hope, witness my baptism, and the next 
day I hope to make my first Communion. I 
have mentioned to my parents my intention, 
and they neither consented nor forbade . But, 
thanks be to God, it is not necessary that I 
should wait longer, and when I next write to 
you, I hope to tell you the glad news. We 
have two excellent priests with us now ; there¬ 
fore I can find some one to advise and direct 
me. I wrote to ma Tante—at Montreal, 
last week, and I told her I should probably 
never write to the convent again, until I could 
tell them that I was a Catholic in every sense of 
the ivord. I was weary of writing that the 
day was yet to come. I longed to say it had 
been my happiness to be received as one of the 
children of God’s Church on earth. ** Pray 
for me that I may worthily receive the sacra 
ments of our holy religion—that I may have a 


90 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


firm, faith and a deep love of God implanted 
in my heart! I will write again as soon as I 
can tell yon the good news.” The following 
needs no comment. Each soul that is so 
favored as to be numbered among “ the few ” 
who have been permitted to pass through the 
“ strait gate ” which opens upon the “ nar¬ 
row way that leadeth unto life,” will respond 
from its profoundest abysses to every expres¬ 
sion it contains: 

“ Fairfield, Dec. 4 tli , 1855.—How can I 
commence this letter ? How should I com¬ 
mence it ? How, but in asking you to join 
with me in praise and thanksgiving to Al¬ 
mighty God. Yes, my first request of you 
must be, that you will say with me, 1 Thanks 
he to God ! 7 My desire has at length been 
gratified, and I have been received into the 
Church of Christ. What can I write to you ? 
My heart is so full of happiness that I cannot 
write. What an empty word Happiness has 
ever been to me. Now that I realize what it 
is to be truly happy, I can look back upon the 
past and see that it has been almost a blank. 
The hour of my baptism ! Can I forget it ? 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


91 


No ; it is now before me. The memory of it 
rushes full and fresh over my soul, even as I 
sit here and write. It is now past, but the in¬ 
ward feeling of my heart at the moment when 
those regenerating waters descended upon my 
head, cannot pass aivay ! I must ever keep 
in grateful remembrance, those sacred mo¬ 
ments. I pray that they may ever be before 
me to cause me to remember my great obliga¬ 
tions to my God ! He has been so merciful to 
me, in bringing me to the Fold wherein alone 
salvation can be found ; what must be my in¬ 
gratitude if I abuse those mercies—trample 
upon those graces! Pray earnestly for me, 
my kind friend, as I am sure you ever have, 
that I may resist the temptations of this 
world. Our Heavenly Father has brought 
one more wandering lamb within the sacred 
inclosure of His Church, and unworthy as 
that one is, He has deigned to notice her. 
Yes ; He heard my request, He has granted 
my petitions, and rescuing me from the im¬ 
pending danger, has ‘ set my feet upon a rock. 
He has opened the door of His Church, and 
asked my soul to enter therein. He has 


92 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


brought me within the reach of His sacra¬ 
ments—has conferred upon me the title of 
Child of God ! Oh blessed thought! How 
can I repay ? In no way ! I can only offer 
my penitential prayers and tears. And what 
shall I say of the intercession of the Blessed 
Mother of our Redeemer ? Oh, my sweet 
Mother! my greatest advocate and refuge ! 
my guiding star! would that I could thank 
thee more ! Take my offering, which, it is 
true, is but little, and continue to guide and 
guard thy child. Would that all might learn 
to love thee—thou that art higher than any 
other created intelligence in the Heavenly 
Courts! Would that all might acknowledge 
thee to be the Immaculate Mother of God. 
Pray for me, and be my Mother still! Teach 
me the virtues which shone so conspicuously in 
thy life, and at last may I see thee in all thy 
glory above, where we will join in praising 
Him who saved thee from sin, and has rescued 
my soul from the consequences of sin, eter¬ 
nally and without ceasing! * * * I have not 
yet made my first Communion. I preferred to 
wait until the Feast of the Immaculate Con- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


9a 


ception of our Holy Mother, on the 8th of 
this month. I was baptized on Friday last, 
(the thirtieth of November,) at St. Albans ; I 
took the name of Mary Agnes in baptism. I 
have about the same trials at home as ever ; 
perhaps I may say, more. But what are 
these ? I can look upon them now with little 
pain, and even consider it a happiness to bear 
them. I request your prayers for the conver¬ 
sion of my dear friends at home. You are the 
first one to whom I have communicated the 
good news. You were my first Director , as it 
were, and you were not forgotten in my 
prayers at the hour of my baptism.” 

Rest thee now, gentle dove! thou hast 
gained the summit at last, and may safely fold 
thy wearied wings for a time in calm repose, 
beneath the shadow of the olive branch, which 
thou hast at length safely deposited upon the 
altars of the ark of thy rest! Even the 
perennial freshness of thy blameless and tri¬ 
umphant example —the only trophy thy best 
search could find on the wide deserts of a 
world deluged by sin, which was worthy to be 
offered—as a token of Hope for those with- 


94 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


out, and a beacon of Victory to those within 
— before the tabernacles of the Lord of 
Hosts! 

In the attempt to convey a faithful portrait¬ 
ure (by the aid of her own pen,) of the char¬ 
acter and trials of our precious and lamented 
young friend, I have now reached a point 
where it is proper that I should pause, to 
remark that I would by no means wish to be 
understood as desiring to represent her as free 
from human weakness, or above the reach of 
human emotions. Far from it!—for it is a 
daughter of Eve, and not an angel, of whom 
I am writing. She was warmly affectionate 
in her nature, and therefore keenly sensitive 
to coldness, estrangement and unkindness, in 
those she loved. She had less pride indeed 
—thanks to the Gracious Hand that preserved 
her more free from the stain of that hideous 
sin by which the brightest of Heaven’s hosts 
forfeited their high estate—than almost any 
other person I have ever known ; but she was 
endowed by nature with her full share of that 
attribute which, when subjected to proper re¬ 
strictions, forms the crowning beauty of wo- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


95 


man’s character, and, without those restric¬ 
tions, its greatest weakness—love of approba¬ 
tion ; therefore her first experiences of odium 
and contempt settled like iron into her soul. 
Though determined to act in strict accordance 
with the dictates of her conscience, and to 
follow the guidance of the Holy Spirit in the 
path clearly marked out for her, by embracing 
the despised religion of the meek and lowly 
Jesus at all hazards, and regardless of tem¬ 
poral consequences ; yet is it strange when 
she found herself—from the period of the 
events recorded in the last chapter—standing, 
humanly speaking, alone , separated from some 
of her dearest relatives (by differences which 
had arisen between them and her parents as 
to the propriety of carrying opposition to her 
feelings and wishes in religious matters, so far 
as they had felt themselves in duty bound to 
carry it), and neglected and condemned by 
most of her former associates, that.her grieved 
and trembling spirit sought a solace for tem¬ 
poral ills, by hiding itself too entirely in the 
contemplation of the eternal treasures it had 
gained, to admit of her devoting the time and 


96 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


attention to the due discharge of those daily 
domestic duties, which she owed to the kind¬ 
ness of her devoted parents ? For her ne¬ 
glect of some of the least important of these 
duties, even when the lassitude of disease was 
beginning to press heavily upon her, she has 
been cruelly censured by those whose closest 
scrutiny could detect nothing more serious to 
condemn in her than some such trivial faults 
and omissions ; and who eagerly blamed 
qualities in her which—had they been dis¬ 
covered in the character of a Protestant 
young lady—would have called forth their 
highest encomiums. Though her spirit was 
ever strong and unfaltering in its willingness 
to sacrifice all for God, yet was th q flesh some¬ 
times weak. When she knew that the finger 
of scorn was pointed at her, that the en¬ 
venomed tongue of slander was busy in pois¬ 
oning the very atmosphere around her with 
its merciless and lying devices, and when she 
felt the sharp arrows of ridicule piercing her 
on every hand, was it strange that, wrung 
with the stinging consciousness of all this, her 
wounded and affrighted soul nestled, like a 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 91 

bird under the wing of its mother, more and 
more closely into the bosom of the sweet 
Mother of Sorrows and of Compassion, where 
alone it could find repose?—That Mother 
who had felt every pang which rent her 
tender heart, and could therefore sympathize 
with every grief!—she who, for the benefit of 
her adopted children, had walked, with more 
than mortal mother’s love and firmness, side 
by side with her own Divine Son, in the path 
marked with His Blood, calmly acquiescent 
for our sakes with all the circumstances of 
the agonizing Sacrifice, through the fiery 
furnace of human ingratitude, ignominy and 
cruelty, and can therefore soothe the anguish 
of her children who are subjected to its 
scorching fury, in such small measure as He 
sometimes permits His best beloved to endure 
for His name’s sake. Can we wonder, if in 
seeking these heavenly consolations, our de¬ 
voted young friend turned away with what 
was called coldness, indifference, apathy, from 
the charms of her beautiful earthly home, and 
from those claims of societj" whose hollowness 
she had proved, to feed her hungry soul con- 


93 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


stantly on the Bread of Heaven, and apply to 
it? wounds the Balm of her chosen Gilead, 
even the sacraments of “ the Church of the 
living God, the pillar and the ground of 
Truth ?” Was it strange, in fine, that having 
been permitted to taste one drop of the cup of 
human contempt which her Divine Master had 
drained to its dregs, she was so transported 
to find its bitterness changed to such ineffable 
sweetness as Heaven alone can yield, that her 
soul thirsted from thenceforth for those deeper 
draughts to be quaffed only in the calm re¬ 
cesses of the solitudes which are sought and 
found by the chosen ones whom He calls to 
“ forsake father and mother, houses and lands,” 
and walk with Him among the most calumni¬ 
ated of the lowly disciples of His charity? 
If, conscious of the desertion of friends and 
the ban of society , she was sometimes lonely 
and sad—if, wounded by contumely and the 
envenomed darts of calumny, and, more pain¬ 
fully than all, by the bitter thought that, to 
the dear parents whose pride and joy it would 
be the first and highest of her earthly aims to 
be (if she could without sacrificing her con- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 

science), she was only a source of* mortifica¬ 
tion and grief, she sometimes writhed in 
mortal agony and human weakness—if, pass¬ 
ing through the fiery furnace, some slight 
traces of the scorching flames were left upon 
her otherwise unsullied robes, l.et us not 
wonder at this, but let us rather give glory to 
God for imparting strength to a frail and sen¬ 
sitive child, to undergo the fiery ordeal firmly 
and with undaunted courage, unto the end I 
Let the proud Pharisees of the world—who 
wash the outside of the cup and platter, who 
trumpet their own fame, who rob widows’ 
houses, and for a pretence make long prayers 
standing in their synagogues—laugh to scorn 
the modest piety of our beloved one. Let 
the dainty formalists who handle religion so 
gingerly, and deal it out in precise and 
measured periods, look down with pitiful con¬ 
tempt upon the humble devotion which im¬ 
pelled her to retire from the luxurious halls 
where fashionable butterflies display their 
finery, and, once in a week, lounge away a few 
hours in the elegant attitudes and expressions 
of their languid but genteel fervors. Let the 


100 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


arrogant disciples of the false and human 
philosophy of the day, the “ wise and prudent” 
of this world, from whom the mysteries of 
Heaven are “ hidden,” and who therefore 
fancy, in the darkness of their miserable 
blindness and unbelief, that there are no such 
mysteries—they who claim to be the tolerant 
ones of earth, yet whose iron mtolerance 
would fain crush out of existence all those 
who subscribe not to their “ doctrine of 
devils,” their belief in imbelief—let all such, 
in the pride of intellects untaught of the 
Spirit of God, sneer at what they are pleased 
to call the “ delusion,” or the “ fanaticism of a 
devotee,” whose sole glory was the humility 
of the Cross ! But we to whom she now be¬ 
longs—we who may henceforth claim her 
through the grace and mercy of God, and the 
washing of the regenerating waters, as one of 
our brightest and most precious jewels, of 
whom “ the world” truly “ was not worthy”— 
can well afford to yield them that contempti¬ 
ble satisfaction, while we “ thank Thee, 0 
Father, Lord of heaven and earth,” for the 
wonders it hath pleased Thee to “ reveal unto 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


101 


babes,” and our spirits rejoice with hers in 
“joy unspeakable and full of glory !” 

It is greatly to be regretted that no letters 
from Debbie to her faithful friend were extant, 
or rather accessible, after the period of her 
baptism until the following March, when she 
and her sister Helen were attending school at 
Burlington, from which place she writes : 

“ Thursday Morning , March 6 th, 1856—My 
dearest and best friend, I will not give you 
cause to complain again of my neglect in wri¬ 
ting to you. I arrived in Burlington last 
Monday, and although I am quite busy arrang¬ 
ing my studies, I could not think of letting 
this week pass, without sending one of my 
hastily written letters to Yamachiche. Oh, ma 
Tante ! my happiness is so great, that I cannot 
wish to have it alone ; I want others to share 
it with me! Every day brings me more, to 
realize the goodness of God in bringing me 
into His Church. Every day I find something 
more to admire, something more to love; and 
my heart is loo full and must needs speak its 
sentiments very often. To you, my best 
friend, I can speak of this inward joy. But 


102 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


how feio there are around me from whom I 
can expect sympathy. Jesus has been the one 
to whom all my joys and griefs have been, 
made known; and though often with tears I 
have approached Him, He has taken the load 
off my heart, and oh, such peace has taken its 
place! Tuesday Morning , March 11th —I 
have not been well, for a few days, and could 
not finish my letter as soon as I expected. 
This morning I intended to have gone to Com¬ 
munion, but I arose with a severe headache, 
and I am obliged to walk some distance to 
church, so I deferred it until to-morrow. 
This is quite a disappointment for me, 
you may be sure; but I have the anti¬ 
cipation of receiving to-morrow ; and that 
will make this day a happy one necessar¬ 
ily. I find often my sad hours become joy¬ 
ous ones, in looking forward to the hour when 
Jesus will become my Guest, and though His 
reception is so cold from my poor heart, how 
can we have the source of all love so near our 
souls, and not feel its influence? Oh, how 
hard the heart must be that mourns not its 
base ingratitude towards Jesus in the Blessed 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


103 


Sacrament! Why He comes to us is still a 
mystery to me when He receives naught but 
coldness and neglect from us in return. But 
His sacred heart is so overflowing with love 
for us, that it must give us constant proofs of 
that love. Oh, ma Tante! how I wish I 
might see you now for a short time. If I could 
only spend Holy Week with my dear convent 
friends! Three years ago I was with them all, 
and then I first learned to love our holy faith. 
Why am I not with you now , I cannot tell. I 
suppose it is the will of God ; but I trust I 
shall some time visit you all. My hope is 
strong, and I look forward to the time 
anxiously. You are still in Yamachiche, and 
are likely to remain, I presume, for some time. 

* * * Do you think Kate T-will be a 

nun ? I have thought, from some of her let¬ 
ters, that she would. I am sure I would be 
happy to see her in the Novitiate. Perhaps 
you think this singular, but I always thought 
Kate a person of very good mind, and I do 
do not feel now as I once did , that the talented 
and gifted should belong to the ivorld, and the 
ordinary ones to God. Far from it; just the 



104 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


reverse. When you hear of one of your for¬ 
mer pupils becoming a novice, I am sure you 
are very happy, ma Tante. Is it not so ? I 
presume you admire their choice of life, and 
indeed so do I. And now, good-bye ; say an 
“ Ave Maria ” for Debbie, and go to the church 
on Good Friday, and thank our dear Redeemer 
for the gift of Faith he granted to your 
pauvre enfant , three years ago, on that day, 
praying that I may ever remember that it 
was His love and His mercy, that changed my 
heart! Do this, I beg of you for Debbie— en¬ 
fant de Marie.” 

“ Burlington, April, 1856 : I should have 
answered your last letter long ago, but I was 
waiting for a short time, that I might have 
some good news to communicate to you, and 
surely I have not waited in vain. Helen is a 
Catholic I She is not yet baptised, but will be 
very soon. She has been to confession twice, 
and has written to father and mother to obtain 
their consent. I have not much hopes of her 
getting it, and I am dreading the result, I 
assure you. I know there will be more trouble 
at home than ever, and, poor people ! they will 


TFIE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


105 


think the plague has entered their family. I 
presume they will think “ Debbie’s influence ” 
is terrible , and as there are three more daugh¬ 
ters, they will fear for them. I hope for 
nothing ! I fear everything! But I am strong 
enough to bear it. It is coming hard for 
Helen as well as for myself. God is my 
strength, and with His assistance, and the pro¬ 
tection of the Blessed Virgin, my cross is a 
light one. I think my father will be here to¬ 
morrow, for they must have received our let¬ 
ters yesterday, and they will be very much 
astonished, I know. I will finish my letter to¬ 
morrow. Have been to Communion to-day. 
Oh! I have so much to ask for, so much to be 
thankful for, in that sacred hour when the 
God of heaven and earth comes to dwell 
within my soul! So many desires to lay 
before the Sacred Heart of Jesus ; so many 
infirmities to mourn over, so much grace to 
obtain! It is a happy time, and each Com¬ 
munion a never-to-be-forgotten one! I have 
had such excellent Directors since my baptism 
also, that confession is getting to be such a 
glorious privilege! How often I wish Pro- 


106 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


testants could go to Confession, just once! 
Their horror of the sacrament of penance 
would be removed forever, I am sure. Tues¬ 
day morning —Helen has just come from the 
post-office with three letters; one written last 
Saturday, when their indignation was at its 
height. Monday, that was yesterday, they 
wrote the others, and are feeling much more 
resigned, and have given their consent, how¬ 
ever reluctant it was. Helen will therefore 
be baptized on Thursday next, the Feast of the 
Ascension. I am sure you will congratulate 
me. I am sure also our prayers have been 
answered, and still trust the time is not far 
distant when all dear ones at home will be re¬ 
ceived into the Catholic Church.” 

The letter which Helen wrote requesting 
the consent of her parents, and to which her 
sister alludes in the foregoing, I will now give. 
“ My dear Parents —This letter will surprise 
you much, but as you read it I have only one 
request to make : regard me with charity and 
believe that I would not wound your feelings 
for worlds, if it could be avoided ; but I have 
confidence in you. * * I am a Catholic. I 


TIIE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


107 


have not yet made a public profession of my 
faith, but my mind is at rest, and 1 desire to 
act immediately. The tie which bound me 
most strongly to Protestantism is broken ; by 
this I mean you to understand that I am free 

from my engagement with Mr.-. It was 

his wish that if I decided to embrace Catho¬ 
licity, our engagement might be at an end ; 
and yesterday evening 1 returned his letters 
etc., and acquainted him with my decision. It 
has been a sacrifice , but not so much have I 
suffered from it, as I do from the thought that 
this must give you 'pain ! But life is short. I 
may be here a year, a day, an hour, and then 
comes Eternity! You will say I have been 
influenced by some one. My decision was 
made without the knowledge of a living person. 
Why I have doubted the truth of Catholicity 
so long , is more than I can tell. I am ready 
to act under any circumstances, and I ivish I 
might gain your consent; but I hardly dare 
hope for it. Think not to change me, my Faith 
is too strong. If I meet with your displeasure, 
I can only look to Heaven for assistance , and 
bear the trial with all the fortitude 1 possess. 



108 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


Be lenient towards me—it is all I ask ; and if 
I have to go in opposition to your wishes—/or- 
give ! I shall expect to hear from you soon. 
Your affectionate daughter, Helen.” 

When the reply to this letter was received, 
containing the consent mentioned in that of 
our dear Debbie, the sisters lost no time in 
making preparations for Helen’s baptism. 
The arrangements were just completed when 
their father arrived, he having been called to 
Burlington on some business, and he came to 
see them upon his first arrival. After express¬ 
ing his regret at the decision she felt herself 
bound to make, he repeated his “ reluctant” 
consent, and went out to attend to the busi¬ 
ness upon which he came. In the course of 
an hour or two he returned, apparently much 
excited, and made some severe remarks, con¬ 
cluding by absolutely forbidding Helen to ful¬ 
fill the intention she had formed, by being 
baptized. The sisters were perfectly as¬ 
tounded by this sudden turn in their affairs, 
but knew it was not their father’s own senti¬ 
ments he was uttering, so much as those of 
some person he had met, while he wms out. 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


109 


When lie first came and while he was per¬ 
fectly calm , he had, although regretfully, con¬ 
firmed the permission given in his letter, and 
Helen determined to act upon that permission 
in accordance with the arrangements she had 
previously made. I mention these circum¬ 
stances thus minutely, because she has been 
severely censured for acting contrary to her 
father’s injunctions at last. He felt the jus¬ 
tice of her course himself, so entirely, that he 
never reproached her for it; but when she re¬ 
turned home, received her with the same kind¬ 
ness as if nothing unpleasant had happened. 
Our poor Helen ! It would have seemed that 
her griefs upon another score were already 
sufficiently poignant, without this addition. 
But the hand of God was in it all! The 
trials which had darkened and wounded the 
gentle and sensitive heart of her sister, would 
have glided over her sunny spirit like summer 
clouds, without even obscuring its brightness 
for a moment. Therefore, her cross was 
fashioned in a different mould. But thanks 
be to God, who gave her “ the victory through 
our Lord Jesus Christ!” She bowed meekly, 


110 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


even joyously to the heavy burden, (none the 
less heavy for her loving reception of it,) and 
bore it with the same generous firmness that 
her lovely sister had manifested before her. 
Yet was the conflict a hitter one j how bitter 
will appear in these lines written by her in 
one of Debbie’s letters, to her friend at Yama- 
cliiche on the day of her baptism : 

“ Will you pray, ma Tantc, for one who 
loves you dearly, yet deems herself unworthy 
of your love. Passing through deep waters 
I falter, and am often tempted to turn back ! 
God alone knows what I have suffered since I 
left my convent home! I trust He will give 
me grace to look beyond this miserable world 
for happiness —that happiness which He alone 
can give. Will you pray for your Helen 1” 

On the second* of May, the morning after 
Helen’s baptism, Debbie wrote to her mother, 
in reply to a letter Helen had just received 
from her : ‘-‘Burlington, May 2d, 1856. — My 
Dear Mother: This morning I thought I would 
write you a few lines, and I am sure I hope 
they will be acceptable ones. Helen would 
write, but 1 thought, perhaps, I could spare 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


Ill 


lier the pain of so doing, by writing for her. 
The subject of my letter is to be the answer 
to the one you wrote Helen concerning Mr. 
-. I will assure you of one thing to com¬ 
mence with, that she will not grow poor, nei¬ 
ther will her health fail, on account of the 
disengagement. I can tell you what I know 
of the affair, and will try not to ‘ use Jesuiti¬ 
cal deception 1 in doing it. Last winter when 

Mr. - visited Fairfield, Helen told him 

that she thought of becoming a Catholic, and 
he informed her that if it should be so, their 
engagement would be broken. He then re¬ 
quested her to send his letters when she 
should so decide. If it had been my case he 
luould have taken them then ! After her deci¬ 
sion to unite with the Church was made, she 
wrote to him, returned his letters, etc., as he 
had requested. I think the affair has been per¬ 
fectly honorable on her side. She has only 
done what his creed declares every one hound 
to do, that is, act according to their oivn con¬ 
victions ; and that they are answerable for it 
also. It pretends to be a Protestant princi¬ 
ple, 1 judge for yourself and act accordingly. 1 



112 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


She had as good a right to say to him, ‘ Be a 
Catholic and I will marry you / as he had to 
require her to give up her soul’s salvation and 
remain a Protestant, and he would f ulfill his 
'promises. But he will remain where he is, in 
perfect ignorance of the Catholic Faith, be¬ 
lieving they ‘ worship images/ ‘ pay for the 
remission of their sins/ etc., and a thousand 
other abominable falsehoods, and require her 
to join with him in his willful blindness, or 
give him up. ‘ He hates the name of Catho¬ 
lic V To be sure he does ; because he will do 
no other way. If his love for her was what it 
should be, he would look with charity upon 
her faith, and have some respect for her opin¬ 
ions. I do not regret that she has become 
settled in her mind, for if she had married 
that gentleman, I should pity her lot. If she 
did not agree with him in his religious opin¬ 
ions she would be obliged to seem to, and her 
life would indeed be one of misery. I have 
no sympathy for him, except pity for his fool¬ 
ishness ! Helen is very contented ; says she 
thinks she is quite as good now, as she was 
two years ago , and if he chooses to think df- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


113 


ferently , all the same to her. She says she 
loved the ideal not the real; and-1 doubt not 
she will live and very happily too, if he has 
chosen to withdraw his promises. Do not 
trouble yourself, mother, for fear it will have 
a bad influence upon her usually joyous spirits. 
I do not think she will think less of those 
persons who continue to treat her the same as 
ever. Give my love to all at home, and let 
me hear from you soon. Your affectionate 
Debbie. ” 

A few days later, Helen wrote to her mo¬ 
ther : 

“Burlington, May 6 th, 1856: My Dear 
Mother —Yours was received this morning. 
Mother, I think you all do me injustice. I am 
not laboring under any ‘ excitement/ When 
I tell you that for a year I have thought and 
read upon this subject a great deal, ivill you 
believe me then ? Will you tell me that I 
have not regarded yours or father’s feelings, 

or C-’s either, when I tell you that, times 

without number, I have wept, in the privacy 
of my own apartment, tears of hitter anguish 

such as few weep, when none but the Eye of 
10 * 



114 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


Almighty God, my Heavenly Father, was 
upon me. When I tell jou that at times I 
have felt as if I could give up my soul’s 
eternal salvation, rather than my earthly love , 
will you say that I have regarded no one’s 
feelings? Oh, mother! you cannot think so ! 
You at least will be my friend! You tuitt 
think that I have loved as truly at least as I 
have been loved. I do not wish—I shall never 
wish to retrace the steps I have taken. I have 
acted too deliberately to be mistaken. I know 
that I cannot change! I am confident that 
God has been with me through all, that His 
Holy Spirit has guided me, and aright. I 
knew all that would be said. I knew all that 
would be done ; and I felt for a while as if I 
should sink beneath the load. But now r ever 
since the first drops of the baptismal waters 
fell upon my head, have I felt strengthened to 
bear every thing and any thing for Him who 
died for me, and has brought me to the true 
Faith of His Holy Catholic Church. Mo¬ 
ther ! think not that I shall change or regret 
the steps I have taken, for I shall not. I feel 
for you, but I cannot see wherein I have done 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


115 


wrong, at least as regards you and father. If 
you think I have acted a dishonorable part 

towards C-s, I can only refer you to him, 

and he perhaps will do me justice. I was 
baptized on Thursday, the first of May, in the 
presence of quite a number of Protestants and 
some Catholics. I do not regret it, nor ever 
shall! Debbie wrote home a few days since. 
She would like to hear from you. Give my 
love to all. I remain, 

“ Your affectionate daughter, Helen.” 

Debbie writes soon after : “ May 1 Oth. 
My Dear Mother —Helen received yours of 

the 7th, and as she intends to write to E- 

to-day, wished me to answer yours. I am in 

hopes to write to E-myself, this evening^ 

and if I do not, say to her for me that I hope 
she will not trouble herself too much about 

C-s. I do not think his apparent want of 

feeling has raised him in Helen’s estimation, 
and as for myself it makes but little differ¬ 
ence what I think of it. Her letter to him 
was expressive of her true feelings towards 
him, and though she knew that he wished to 
be nothing more than an acquaintance after 




116 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


her profession of the Catholic faith, she told 
him she had the same sentiments of friendship 
for him as ever, and that she should continue 
to have. His reply was one which I should 
hardly have expected from a person of any 
amount of feeling , and I think Helen will 
trouble herself but very little hereafter about 
the matter. He addressed her, ‘ Miss Barlow/ 
thanked her for her ‘ offered friendship/ as 
much as to decline receiving it. To make his 
indifference more manifest, he wrote on a half 
sheet of paper with a lead pencil! I have 
given you the sum and amount of what I know 
about it. She has received her letters to him y 
and destroyed them. We shall be ready to go 
home in about two weeks. I will write you 
again soon. Let us hear from you. Helen 
sends love. Remember me to all. In haste, 
Debbie Barlow.” 

I have given this circumstantial account, 
written by themselves, of an affair which would 
not have been even alluded to in this work , 
but for the gross misrepresentations that liaye- 
been spread, and the absurd and unfounded 
reports that have prevailed in relation to it. 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


lit 


The next letter we have from Debbie to her 
friend at Yamachiche, was written at Fair- 
field, “ June 8th, 1856. * * A few moments I 
will be with you to-night in spirit, but it is 
denied me to be with you really. How I wish 
the privilege was mine to spend a short time 
in my convent home, but it seems impossible. 
Everything works against me in that project. 
I may not see you this summer, but one thing 
is certain, I shall not be a great while longer 
waiting to visit Montreal, for I am determined 
to go there the first time I leave home for any 
length of time. How often I wish I could be 
with you once more! This morning I ap¬ 
proached Holy Communion, and if I could be 
allowed to express the joy of my soul to you, 
ma Tante, you would think Debbie never had 
cause to regret that she became a Catholic l 
To be sure, I sometimes feel myself deprived 
of the presence of God, and sometimes , I could 
be almost discouraged at my coldness, my 
lukewarm prayers and devotions ; but I know 
if I submit to His holy will and bear these in¬ 
terior trials with patience, that He will not 
forsake me. As little as I deserve the many 


118 


TIIE YOUNG CONVENTS. 


mercies Jesus bestows upon me, I must not 
complain if I am often in darkness. I wish, 
ma Tante, that I could become a saint! Is it 
wrong to speak so freely ? But oh, how much 
more than the desire it requires ! To ivish to 
go on in the way of perfection, is only a little 
part of the ivork. The hill seems often times 
so long, and I fall so frequently, that I should 
almost give up, if I could not look beside me 
and see Jesus ready and willing to assist His 
weary child. Sometimes I think this life a 
long time—so little progress in the spiritual 
life. Good resolutions—confessions—com¬ 
munions—and immediately after, perhaps, we 
offend Almighty God 1***1 may be saying 
too much ; it might be better if I kept these 
things within myself; still, I know you feel 
an interest in me, and would like to know my 
feelings, and how your ‘pauvre enfant’ enjoys 
her Catholic life. ‘ Enjoys it V Indeed I 
do ! What would life be, if God had not 
been so merciful, and enlightened my poor 
soul! What should I do without the sacra¬ 
ment of penance ? How could I exist now if 
the Sacrament of the Altar, the Bread of 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


119 


Angels, were taken from me ? Oh, God ! 
Rather let me cease to be, than ever be de¬ 
prived of Faith. And do you remember 
where I first learned to love the truths of 
Christ’s Church ? Oh, my convent home ! 
Good Friday ! and the Passion of Jesus 
Christ ! When will ye be forgotten ? When 
shall I cease to think of the gifts bestowed 
upon me in Mary's Chapel, on the day that a 
God was crucified for man; and when His 
sacred passion was, as it were, placed before 
my soul in its plainest light. Oh, passion of 
Jesus Christ! who should be devoted to thee ? 
Surely, it is I —but how cold I am, even at the 
sight of a crucifix. Oh, ma Tante, if I could 
only have my heart filled with the love of my 
Saviour! And will you not often pray that 
it may be so ? I expect to pass this summer 
at home. * * * *” Again, on the 24th of 
June, Debbie wrote to the same friend from 
Fairfield. After expressing her earnest de¬ 
sire to go to Montreal to pass the next Christ¬ 
mas, if she could not be allowed to go before, 
and her fears that her parents would not con¬ 
sent, mentioning also their apprehensions that 


5 20 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 

Helen would desire to enter a convent, she, 
adds : “ I presume they think there is no dan¬ 
ger of me. I do not think they need fear 
much, for I am sure I have a mission at home 
yet, and in fact I think converts as often find 
it their vocation to remain in the world as 
otherwise. I am satisfied to do what is right, 
any way, and if I am to remain where I am, 

I am willing. If I am to go somewhere else, 
just as well satisfied. I only ask grace and 
assistance of Almighty God to do His blessed 
will, and then I can say, ‘ Will what Thou 
pleasest!’ Helen’s conversion has aroused 
opposition anew, and I think my father is 
more prejudiced than ever against our Holy 
Faith. I sometimes think if I were a better 
Catholic, it might change his ideas some. If 
the example were better, the effect might be 
greater. But oh ! poor human nature— so 
liable to err, so weak, so frail. I fear, I 
tremble , when I think how many things I do , 
that may produce a wrong impression upon 
the minds of those around me 1 JVhat an ex¬ 
ample mine ought to be, and how far short it 
falls! * * * I have just returned from the 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


121 


church. We have had the privilege, for a few 
weeks past, of having the Blessed Sacrament 
with us, and every day I can go and lay all 
my wants before Him, whose home is in yon¬ 
der humble dwelling, there to receive the 
graces which He daily distributes to His un¬ 
worthy creatures. Oh! when He condescends 
to come and make His abode with us, what 
more can we ask ? Oh, Blessed Sacrament! 
what were the world without Thee! what a 
weary waste , what an endless journey to 
Heaven it would be! Ah, ma Tante, what a 
gift of faith was that when Jesus taught me to 
believe in His Real Presence in the Holy Eu¬ 
charist! Given it was, almost without ashing , 
and why to me ? Oh, the goodness of God, 
the treasures of His mercy!” * * # 

During that month, Helen wrote to the 
same friend at Yamachiche : 

“ Fairfield, June 28 th, 1856. My Dear 

Tante —It made me so happy to receive those 

few lines from you; I did not expect them, 

and was very much surprised when they came. 

Dear Tante, do you remember what you said 

to me a short time before I left the convent? 
n 


122 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


I never, never could forget it, or the circum¬ 
stances that led you to say what you did. I 
do not blame you ; you believed as they told 
you, and I was too proud to explain, as long 
as you did not ask me for an explanation. 
Did I ever tell you that before I went to the 
convent, God called me to be a Catholic ? or 
rather He told me that I might find peace and 
truth in the bosom of the Catholic Church ; 
and that mot^pr found one day in my room 
a book that I was reading, and forbade me to 
finish it. I laid the book aside, for I dared 
not disobey ; but I never forgot the impres¬ 
sion I had received. And when, some time 
after, she told me that I was to go to the con¬ 
vent, how I wept for joy, and how slowly the 
time passed till I found myself within the 
convent walls. Did I ever tell you all this ? 
I think not, and yet it is true. Oh ! how 
often I wished to tell you just how I felt, but 
I could not; times without number were the 
words upon my lips, and one moment more 
would have saved me untold grief; but the 
time would pass on, the words were not said, 
and I would turn away more unhappy than 


TIIE YOUNG CONVERTS 


123 


before ; and then at those times I would do 
something that would most offend my teach¬ 
ers. This is my nature. The last few weeks 
of my stay there I cared for nothing—for no 
one. I was not loved ; no one could under¬ 
stand me, not even you , ma Tante, so I cast 
all feelings aside; only at night, when all 
else were asleep, would I give way to my 
feelings. Often would I get up from my bed 
(regardless of the rule , I did not care for 
that,) and go into the chapel and kneel there 
till I dared stay no longer ! then I would go 
back and weep myself to sleep. * * * * I 
used to sit sometimes and watch the moon till 
I could see it no longer, and wish that I was 
anywhere but there, for I was not happy. 1 
never went into the garden, but often wanted 
to go, for I thought that the night air would 
bp so refreshing. I started to go once, but 
gave it up for fear of discovery. You are sur¬ 
prised, I know, but this is true. I thought 
I would tell this to you, my well-beloved 
Tante, that you might know my faults. You 
know all I committed except these (and some 
more that T did not commit at all!) Ts it 


124 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


strange, dear Tante, that when I came home and 
saw one who loved me, who could read my 
heart like a book , and asked me to love him in 
return, is it strange that I loved him as fer¬ 
vently as I did ? and I lived on in that love, 
forgetting that aught could shadow its bright¬ 
ness ; but again, God in His mercy called me, 
and, dear Tante, I have given up my earthly 
treasure for a better one in Heaven ! I have 
now found abiding rest; I care not for the love 
of the world, only as it will please God to be¬ 
stow it upon me. I do thank the Blessed Vir¬ 
gin that I am a Catholic. Our Holy Mother 
has interceded for me at the throne of Grace, I 
know ; and now I look to her to obtain the 
grace for me to love my Saviour more, and will 
you help me too, my best friend, to obtain such 
a favor. I am watching in patience through 
the dark hours. I am willing to lay at the low 
footstool of the Crucified my treasures, every 
one, and take His cross and bear it through the 
hours of darkness till the dawn of day, and 
then I will lay it down and go home to my 
rest. I thank you, dear Tante, for that sweet 
picture. My Saviour crucified ! and my sins 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


125 


the cause of His sufferings! When will the 
time come when I shall sin no more ? Oh, my 
sweet Tante, I wish I could go to Montreal! 
but I cannot this summer ; it does seem as if I 
could not wait, but would fly to you! You 
know my antipathy to letter-writing ; do, let 
this be my excuse for this frightful looking 
letter. I have not practiced much since I left 
the dear convent. If you can have patience 
with me, will you, sweet Tante, write again to 
your loving child, Helen.” 

Soon after this letter was written, we re¬ 
ceived our first visit from the beautiful sisters, 
in our secluded home. We met them in church 
at St. Albans, on Sunday. They were accom¬ 
panied by an interesting young friend and con¬ 
vent companion, who was visiting them from 
Boston, (the “ Jennie” of Debbie’s letters,) and 
the three were there, passing a few days at the 
pleasant home of another convent schoolmate, 
(the “ Cora,” mentioned by Debbie,) just out of 
the village of St. Albans. As we were there 
with a single carriage, we made arrangements 
to send a double one to convey them and their 
young friends to our place in the evening. We 

i:* - 


126 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


have ever remembered that visit as one of the 
few green spots which have enlivened our soli¬ 
tary journey on the down-hill of life. The 
music of their clear, sweet voices united in 
singing the soul-stirring hymns of their “ dear, 
convent home the cheerful conversations, 
the innocent mirthfulness, the merry pranks 
of our sparkling and mischief-loving Helen, 
which were fully entered into by her lovely 
companions, and enjoyed to the utmost by her 
more sedate and quiet sister, (who watched her 
with fond pride, and with more of a mother’s 
than a sister’s tenderness) ; the visits from 
some of the young sons of our dear friends, 
and from our neighbors, the rambles in the 
woods, the rides on horseback, the drives, the 
evening pastimes, and above all, the fervent, 
united prayers which closed each day—and all 
are before me now, and even while I am 
writing of them, I pause to ask myself, is it in¬ 
deed true that they who were the means of 
bringing to our solitudes the “ angel hours” of 
that delightful dream, have passed away in the 
spri ng-time of their life, and the freshness of 
their bloom, to adorn the gardens of Paradise. 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


121 


and to rejoice in the society of the saints and 
angels, unto whom their pure spirits were 
united even in this bleak world! 

In July, 1856, to the great joy of our dear 
Debbie, her parents at length consented to her 
making the long desired visit to Montreal, and 
even to her remaining a year in Canada to 
pursue the study of French, if she could make 
satisfactory arrangements to that end. She 
was engaged in her preparations for departure, 
and absorbed in the most joyful anticipations 
of the pleasures which awaited her in her 
“ convent home/’ until she set out on the first of 
September, 1856, upon which day she began 
the Diary from which I shall give some ex¬ 
tracts as well as from her letters to her family, 
during her absence. It is a matter of deep 
regret, that the sisters destroyed all the letters 
they had each received, previous to their re¬ 
spective deaths. Had their correspondence 
with me been preserved, it would doubtless 
have added materially to the interest of this 
biography. 

The first entry in the Diary is September 
1st , 1856: “Left Fairfield this morning for 


128 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


Montreal; arrived in St. Albans, and spent 
the night at Mr. Hoyt’s. Found all well and 
in a state of excitement; Willie was going to 
Canada , too. September 2d— At Rouse’s Point, 
I found that some of my former convent friends 
were on the cars. To-morrow ! to-morrow !! 
September 3c?—Once more in the convent! 
How can I say anything ? Three years have 
flown away since I left it. I say flown away, 
not swiftly though, for time has passed slowly 
and heavily since I bade adieu to this loved 
spot. The days, weeks, months, and years 
have brought with them many changes ; some 
happy ones—some sad. When I left I was 
without the^ Church of God, (but desired it 
then.) Dark days were those, but my heart 
had received impressions within those convent 
walls never to be forgotten! Jesus in His 
great mercy did not forget me. He has fought 
the fight for His weak child, and in the excess 
of His love has placed her in the “ Ark of 
Safety.” All glory to His Holy Name ! He 
has also called one, who is near and dear to 
me, and guided her footsteps into the path of 
salvation. But, again I am in my convent 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


129 


home! Can it be ? Is it possible ? It is 
even so. Everything looks the same. I have 
been to the nuns’ chapel. Is it, 0, my God, 
a reality ? Shall I not wake and find it a 
dream ? I have closed my eyes and dreaded 
to open them for fear. But I am right. Those 
are the same paintings, the same altars and 
and statues, and even the same venerable old 
priest who said Mass for us every morning, 
three years ago, is offering up the Adorable 
Sacrifice. And I have seen all my beloved 
teachers, among them ma Tante S—, she, who 
had the greatest care for my salvation ; she, 
to whom I owe every thing. If to-day I pos¬ 
sess faith—if to-day I am a Catholic, it is to her 
prayers that I owe it. If I am now a child of 
Mary, it was she gave me my first knowledge 
of the devotion to that sweet Mother; if I was 
led to inquire for the truth, it was ma Tante 
who gave me the first book ; and I have seen 
her again, my friend —my more than friend, 
ten thousand times more than that! She loved 
my soul because Jesus Christ died to save it. 
Her reward is in Heaven. The day has passed 
in a continual visit! I have seen every one ; 


130 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


been in every room. Not much is changed, 
nothing but myself. September 4 th —Slept 
sweetly in my convent home last night, no bad 
dreams to disturb me, and joyous happy faces 
this morning to meet my gaze. Happy child 
am I, once more to have returned ! The con¬ 
vent walls which once looked so gray, so dark, 
so dismal, now the sight of them makes my 
heart leap to my mouth for joy. Happy days l 
In after-life I will look back and call them 
blessed. * * * September 17 th —Sunday Ves¬ 
pers—dear convent home ! This brings back 
other days. Can it be I am here once more ? 
1 have dreamed it many times but—awoke, 
and now it is reality ! The “ Magnificat” is 
as beautiful as ever, and the “ Ave Maris 
Stella” sounds strangely familiar, but a trifle 
sweeter and is a trifle more touching to the soul 
than three years ago. * * September 8th — 
Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin ; 
joyous happy feast! received Holy Commu¬ 
nion in Mary’s chapel this morning. Here in 
this little chapel, the place dearest to me on 
earth, I am at last allowed to partake of that 
Sacred Banquet which Jesus has prepared for 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


131 


His children. I used to watch those who ap¬ 
proached to receive His precious Body and 
Blood, and wonder if the time would ever come 
when I also should enjoy the same privilege ; 
and here, too, before the same Altar where I 
first felt that a God was really 'present. The 
time has come, and I can only say in my heart, 
(for lips cannot speak their meaning,) Thanks 
be to Thee, 0, my God! Thou hast remem¬ 
bered me when my soul was lost in darkness ; 
Thou hast shown me the path wherein I should 
walk, and guided me in the way of salvation. 
September 10 th —Bade adieu to the dear con¬ 
vent and all the loved ones there, and started 
this afternoon for the mission convent at St. 
Eustache with ma Tante S—(who was now 
removed from Yamcachiche to St. Eustache. 

“ St. Eustachf, September Vlth, 1856. Fri¬ 
day Evening. My Hear Mother: I am just 
getting settled at St. Eustache ; have written 
a long letter to Helen, and must tell you how 
I am pleased with the place, my prospects, etc. 
St. Eustache is a very pleasant village about 
twenty miles from Montreal. It is not on the 
St. Lawrence, but on a branch of that river. 


132 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 

The convent is pleasantly situated, the river 
passing just back of rch and 

burial-place is on the right, and a very pretty 
yard in front. S— is with me and two French 
nuns. Everything set for my advantage 
now. The Sisters are very agreeal lepers a 
but I must learn French before I can speak 
much with them. I find the scholars most, if 
not all, French, and I think I shall not fail to 
., W e cai to St. East 
riage, and, being only twenty miles, found it 
quite an agreeable drive. Before leaving Mon¬ 
treal. S—'s father came from Quebec to the 
city, with his daughter to place her at Villa 
Maria, and I went with them to that place. 
S— went with us. Her sister is a lovely girl, 
and has been in the convent since I left. I 
had a nice visit with them I assure you. S— 
remembers you well, and father also. As she 
is with me. I do not think I shall have any 
trouble in getting along. The school is not 
large—twenty boarders and as nianv dav- 
scholars. How are all at home? Grand¬ 
mother, I suppose, is as usual. The girls I 
trust, are well, and Father is. I presume, as 


THE YOrXG CONVERTS. 


133 


much engaged in political affairs as ever. You 
most let me hear often from home. You 
see. I have commenced well. I have written 
twice, and this is the third time, in two weeks. 
How is E— , and her little one? Give my love 
to her, also to any of my friends who inquire. 
I am very well, and think I shall be. for this 
place is very healthy. Write soon * * * love 
to all the girls, tell them to write to me; 
and father also. Debbie Bablow. Enfant de 
Marie. 71 

“We extract from the Diary. “ September 
21 st —Went to confession this morning, and 
received Holy Communion: a happy day of 
course, hdw could it be otherwise? Feast of 
our Ladv of Seven Dolors, one of mv favorite 
days.* 

“ St. Ecstache, October 14 Ih, 1856 : My 
Dear Father —I have now been something 
over a month in my new situation, and. know¬ 
ing you would be pleased to hear from me not 
only by others, but from myself, I thought I 
would write. I am very well pleased, so far, 
with my opportunities here. I am getting 

along finely with my French : in fact I hear 
12 


134 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


but very little else spoken, except on the days 
I am in my English classes. I understand 
much more than when I came, and am getting 
to like the language much. St. Eustache is a 
pleasant little place and very healthy, at least 
I find it so. I am in good health myself, and 
hope to continue so. I suppose you will be so 
busy now as hardly to find time to answer 
your political correspondents, much less me. 
Well, all right ; my letters are of little or no 
consequence, and the former, I really think, 
are. I am something of a politician myself, 
and even here I become more or less interested 
in those affairs, which I suppose belong more 
to the “ lords of creation,” than to my own 
sex. I am quite willing they should have the 
voice and sway the sceptre; I am not inclined 
to quarrel on this subject, but, you know, one 
will get really interested upon those questions 
which excite their country. I suppose you are 
as much engaged as ever with the coming con¬ 
test, and oftentimes I imagine I see you as on 
the day I left home. And how is it ? Is our 
country still to be governed by a man after 
your own heart ? I trust so, and am anxious 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


135 


to know. Every cne has a subject upon which 
they feel more interest than upon any other, 
and this being yours particularly, I am inter¬ 
ested also. * * * Give my love to all at home, 
and tell them to write often. And now I 
must close. I wish you a glorious victory, 
and remain your affectionate daughter, Debbie 
Barlow.” 

“ St. Eustache, Oct.—My Dear Mother, 
Though I have written home twice this week, 
I thought I would once more, and I am sure 
you, as usual, like to hear from me. I wrote 
to father a few days since, and I presume he 
has received the letter long ere this reaches 
you. I am as well as ever and contented 
also. * * I was in Montreal yesterday, and 
on my return, found Helen’s letter with the 
sad intelligence of the dangerous illness of 
our respected Bishop. I have written to 
Helen to-day. I am sure she will find that I 
write often enough, and I trust she will reply. 
I am happy to hear from her that she is much 
better of her cough. I hope all will be well 
now if she gets rid of that. How come on 
affairs in Fairfield ? I suppose as usual. I 


136 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


imagine the crowded soirees, parties, etc., you 
will be apt to have the ensuing season ! The 
elite, only, of the town invited of course! 
How is grandmother now ? The children, I 
suppose, are well and good. I will write to 
Charlotte and Laura in my next letter. They 
may expect it; and Anna, she has not an¬ 
swered my letter : she must. It is time she 
commenced writing letters. You speak of 

E-and her babe. Give her my love, and 

tell her I would be pleased to hear from her. 
I often think of her, and this morning at my 
communion, she was not forgotten. Tell her 
this for me. Do you hear from Madrid, and 
how and what do you receive from there ? I 
suppose things are as usual. Changes though ! 
how many changes there have been in three 
years ! I never saw anything like it! Give 
my love to all. Let me hear often. Your 
true Debbie. Enfant tie Marie” 

Diary. “ Nov. 9 th —Went to confession 
this morning, again, and received Holy Com¬ 
munion—every Sunday, this favor from God! 
I am the one who should be thankful, but I am 
not; I am ever forgetting. Other things are 



THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


137 


thought of, but this is not. Happy souls are 
those, who can live one day without showing 
ingratitude to their God 1 Nov. 10 th —Re¬ 
ceived a letter from home. Helen has been 
confirmed, and now, I trust, will get along 
finely, with everything. * * * St. Eustache, 
Nov.—Dear Mother —Your letter, and Helen’s 
also, were received this afternoon, and I 
thought I would write yon a few lines that 
you might get them Saturday. I am well, per¬ 
fectly so. I do not think I have felt so well, 
in two years, as I do now. I am getting 
along nicely with my French, and hope to 
continue to. I trust Helen is getting better 
from what you say, and the rest of the family 
are well. I shall look for my things soon, 
and will write again before long. * * Give 
my love to father, and any of the friends who 
inquire. * # *” 

“ Nov. 15 th, 1856 : My Dear Father —This 
morning the pleasing intelligence was con¬ 
veyed to me, that Mr. Buchanan had been 
elected to the office of President of the United 
States. I could not do otherwise than write 
and congratulate you upon the happy sue- 


138 


THE YOUNG .CONVERTS. 


cess. I can only imagine the state of mind 
among the Democrats at present; and to one 
who has so much interest in political affairs as 
yourself, I am sure the result of the last elec¬ 
tion has been most satisfactory. This morn¬ 
ing, while at breakfast, a note was sent in to 
1 Miss Barlow’ informing us of the V ictory ! 
The nuns offer, very respectfully, their felici¬ 
tations with mine. I can only say to you, I 
think the Democratic party is taking full pos¬ 
session of our country, and is becoming as 
strong as the nation itself! A happy state of 
things as far as I can see. New parties try¬ 
ing to reform the old, and build up neiv creeds 
of their own, do not suit my taste, and in 
the case of the political factions of the Re¬ 
public, not likely to amount to much. I see 
the admirable party called “ Know Nothings” 
met with a decided failure. Not much to be 
regretted ! I suppose every State, every town 
and city has had its whirl of excitement, and 
is again comparatively quiet. The conquer¬ 
ors sing songs of victory, and the conquered 
chant the lamentations of ‘ Disappointed 
Hope!’ I have said but few words, though 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


139 


enough for me, and wishing you still further 
success in all undertakings, I remain your af- 
• fectionate daughter, Debbte Barlow.” 

“ Nov. 22 d.—My Dear Mother —The box 
came by express last night safe and sound. 
Everything pleased. Receive many, very many 
thanks. I have no need, whatever, of the bal¬ 
sams you spoke of now, for my cough has left 
me entirely. I have had good scoldings from 

Sister-in the French language, and from 

Sr.-in English, and doses of this, that, and 

the other thing, until I am perfectly free from 
all appearance of a cold. Indeed, it was not 
exceedingly bad any way, but they have 
made me put on flannels throughout — last 
month, some time—and have kept ointment on 
my chest, until I am sure I shall never need 
any more. I am not troubled with my former 
headaches scarcely any, and, in fact, my health 
is first rate. I get along nicely at St. Eus- 
tache—fare well, and have no trouble what¬ 
ever. And so Mr.-is married ! I have 

nothing to say about it, any way. As for 
Helen, she has the great consolation of know¬ 
ing she has done something for God ; and for 




140 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


her generosity, she will have a reward surpass¬ 
ing anything this world can give. I am sure 
she knows, as every good Catholic should, that # 
what is lost in this world for God, is gained a 
thousand-fold in the next. The crown which 
awaits her if she is faithful to grace, we might 
envy ! I can only imagine what it will be, and 
my poor imagination is just nothing in this 
case. Happy child is she! And so you have 
some additions to society in Fairfield. I am 
happy to hear it. If Helen’s health permits, I 
trust she will enjoy it. I have written her to¬ 
day, and in the same letter I have to send 
yours. I want them to go to-night. I am as 
careless as you please aboiU the style of my 
letters, of late, from the fact that I am gene¬ 
rally in a hurry, or write in class with my 
young juveniles around me, studying. There 
is one here about Anna’s age who looks won¬ 
derfully like her ; and tell Laura there is one 
who looks, not like Janet, but like Eliza Anne. 
And one I saw in Montreal, at the boarding- 
school, the exact image of Charlotte ; I assure 
you the exact likeness of her! I have every¬ 
thing I want, and when I want more you shall 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


141 


know it. We have had snow, and it is gone 
again. But winter is close at hand ; we have 
fine weather most of the time. I have been in 
Montreal once, since I came to St. Eustache, 
and expect to go again when we have good 

roads. Sr.-s sister is going to visit us 

soon. I saw her and her father in Montreal. 
He is a very pleasant gentleman. * * I have 
no news to write, and of course my letters 
have to be short. Give my love to all. Truly 
your Debbie, Enfant de Marie.— P. g. I 
hope Helen’s health will continue to improve. 
She must be very careful, and get rid of that 
cough.” 

Extract from Diary : “ Nov. 30 th —St. An¬ 
drew’s da} r , the anniversary of my baptism. 
One year ago ! how time has flown since the 
joyful day of my baptism ! I am not aware 
where it has gone so swiftly ; each day some 
new beauty lias been unfolded before me, and 
every hour I have had new reasons to offer 
praise and thanksgiving to Almighty God. 
Another year of my Catholic life has com¬ 
menced for me ; and shall it be as productive 



142 


THE YOUXG CONVERTS. 


of evil as the past one ? Shall there be no 
more good resolutions, no more efforts to sub¬ 
due evil inclinations, no more progress in vir¬ 
tue ? Ah, the longer I live, the more I find 
in 'poor I to fight against; the more I discover 
how little courage I have for the warfare, and 
how much, how very much is needed. But, 
with the help of God I will continue ; I will 
renew my feeble efforts and hope for the best. 
Have been to Communion this morning, and 
must # commence with fresh courage.” 

The following is an extract from a letter of 
Helen’s, to the convent friend at St. Eustache, 
so frequently addressed by her sister. The 
date does not appear, but it was during the fall 
that Debbie was there. * * “ Though I may 
appear , I am not cold-hearted. You ask me 
why I am not more confiding ? I cannot tell 
why, only that it was never my habit to make 
my feelings known to any one if it could bo 
avoided. I always dreaded it, and even now, 
because I cannot bring myself to speak to 
my Confessor of some interior troubles, I at 
times suffer great agony of mind. * * * Night 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


143 


after night, as I knelt in that dim-lighted 
chapel, I prayed earnestly that God would 
direct and strengthen me to do my duty. 

“ But God, through ways they have not known, 

Will lead His own l” 

And years have passed, and I am only now as 
it were, a Catholic. What I have suffered 
none can ever know but those whose minds 
have been through just what mine has been. 
Away down amid the darkness of infidelity, 
my heart has roved; and what was I thinking 
of when I could give myself up to such dark¬ 
ness of mind ? The love of a human being! 
* * This has been my greatest sin. Oh, my 
God, forgive me! * * I will here give a 
part of another letter, written by Helen soon 
after the foregoing one, and to the same per¬ 
son. These letters were probably enclosed 
to Debbie, as no date appears upon them : 
“ Dearest Tante —1 have laid aside everything 
for a while that I may write to you. I have 
had so little time to write lately, that I would 
hardly have finished my letter to sister, when 
the mail would come and it would be too late 
to send one to you. I think I shall be obliged 


144 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


to go again to the Convent to learn to be more 
orderly in my habits. Everything I have to do, 
always has to be done at the same time. Deb¬ 
bie knows how that is. I think she will smile 
if she sees this my honest confession. Dearest 
Tante S—, you could not make me happier 
than you did when you told me that you loved 
me so dearly. I have always been too sensi¬ 
tive, but I could not help it. Yes, my dear 
Tante, you were compelled to appear indiffer¬ 
ent to me, but what was the cause ? Not the 
jealousy of others entirely, but my own con¬ 
duct would not allow you to feel the same to¬ 
wards me that you had done. Well, it is 
past. You have forgiven and still love your 
child. * * * * No, my dearest Tante, I did 
not expect to be all love, all fervor ; but I did 
expect to be able to give up all things for 
Christ without a murmur. * * * In the hour 
of temptation I wrote to you ; it is over now ; 
I have yielded. I desire to do His will in all 
things—even more, to lay down my life for 
Him. Two days after receiving the sacra¬ 
ment of confirmation the first trial came, (you 
know what news I mean,) and but for the 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


145 


strength I then received, I fear I had been 
overwhelmed by the waves of sorrow that then 
flowed in upon my heart; far more strongly 
than I had dreamed of, did it retain the re¬ 
membrance of the past. Yet I regret it not. 
You know , my own Tante, your child is sincere. 

I thank God that lie has granted me this, that 
I may glorify Him by suffering. And now, - 
dear and sweet Tante, write me soon (as I re¬ 
quested Debbie) a long good letter, as you 
generally do ; it makes me better. I like your 
way of telling me things, dear, dear Tante ! I 
have written in haste. Excuse the imperfec¬ 
tions of this letter. Your affectionate and 
grateful child, Helen.” 

Extract from Debbie’s journal: “ Montreal, 
Dec. Gth —Went to Communion this morning, 
in the little chapel at the boarding-school. 
This is one of the great pleasures I have when 
I come to Montreal, and it should be, I am 
sure. Why that spot is dearer than others I 
do not know; it is the home of the heart for me, 
and must ever be. Time may pass with its many 
changes, but there will be none for me as re- 


146 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


gards that little Oratory of Mary. Dec. 8th 
—Feast of the Immaculate Conception and 
the Anniversary of my First Communion. The 
weather not quite as fine as last year at this 
time. I have a slight remembrance of my joy¬ 
ous day in St. Albans, the eighth of December, 
1855. Probably my memory will be good 
all my life on that subject. Dec. 1 Qth —I re¬ 
ceived a letter, telling of the desire of one very 
near and dear to me, to be confirmed when the 
bishop visited Fairfield. Poor dear one! her 
desire will some time be gratified. I must 
write a few lines to Anna also, who has come 
to the happy conclusion of becoming a Catho¬ 
lic. What glorious news ! What a happiness 
if the time does come when I shall see them 
within the ‘ Ark of Safety !’ God grant that 
it may be so! Hope on, hope ever my soul, 
for He is all goodness.” * * 

“Convent op the Congregation N. D., St. 
Eustache, Dec. —, 1856 —My dear Mother: 
Your last letter I should have answered in 
Helen’s, but at that moment I had not time ex¬ 
cept to finish hers. I am most happy to hear 




THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


147 


that you are all well, and hope this may long 
continue. * * * * I went to Montreal week 

before last with S-. Had ten minutes to 

dress in, you can imagine the hurry; got to 
Villa Maria in the evening, aroused the poor 
nuns from their devotions in the chapel by a 
tremendous knocking at the entrance, and ring¬ 
ing of the bell. We were so muffled up in 
cloaks, hoods, etc., that no one knew us at 
first. Sister M—, who came to the door, 
scanned us from head to foot before admitting 
such stragglers, and finally recognized us. 
Ma Tante N— was there, and she thought it 
must be some one in the greatest distress 
imaginable. While at the convent I had the 
pleasure of meeting many old friends among 
boarders, and some others. The convent build¬ 
ing narrowly escaped being destroyed by fire 
last week. My letter to Helen contains some 
of the details though I have not heard much. 
How does Fairfield progress since there are 
some new-comers and some departures ? Just 
remember me to all who may inquire ; when 
I go home I suppose I shall find some new faces, 
some old ones gone. How is grandmother 


148 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


now ? I suppose about the same. You spoke 
of my going home in your last letter. There 
is no vacation at present, and I could not leave 
without breaking in upon the duties of the 
school. They expect me to stay until July, 
and I desire to. If I went home before that 
time I should wish to return to finish the year, 
and I think, for only a few days, it would be 
foolish to go. I am doing well and I had bet¬ 
ter go on. My love to all. I remain as ever, 
your affectionate daughter, Debbie Barlow, 
Enfant de Marie” 

The following note to her sister Laura, ap¬ 
pears to have been enclosed in the same en¬ 
velope with the foregoing letter : “ My dear 
little Sister : Your note was received with the 
greatest happiness. I am glad you are com¬ 
mencing to write letters. You should con¬ 
tinue. Write to me as often as you can. Your 
picture pleased you. I am glad of it. I think 
it very nice myself. I sent as pretty ones as I 
could find in Montreal at the time. So you 
think I am getting tvild in the convent. Wild 
in my old age! Fie, Laura! I am growing 
steady ; I must be, for my station requires it. 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


I 19 


Teacher! I imagine you would laugh to see 
me. Ma Tante S— says I cannot scold; when 
she wants to have a hearty laugh, she contrives 
some way to hear me scold my children. I 
dress them sometimes with dunce caps when 
Mr. G—, the parish priest, is coming to hear 
the marks read, and let him do the lecturing . 
Good way. I must here close. Good bye! 
Debbie, Enfant de Marie” 

I now return to the Diary : “ January 1st, 
1857, New Year’s Day—A new year just 
commencing ; one just past; and all its joys 
and sorrows, pleasures and pains, all its chang¬ 
es are buried in the great tomb of the past! 
How many hearts have been filled with new 
joys in the course of the year which has just 
closed ? how many have been broken ? how 
many have seen the dearest hopes blasted, the 
fondest anticipations disappointed ? how many 
have gained Heaven? how many have lost it? 
and now all is over ! Eighteen hundred and 
fifty-six will be heard of no more, except in 
calling up scenes of joy or sorrow, and in 
weeping over the irrevocable past. And where 
are its moments, hours, days and months? 

13 * 


150 


THE YOUNG CONVENTS. 


Hard is this to answer ; we can only know it 
lias flown as others have, as others will. Our 
object should be to employ the coming time as 
we now wish we had the past. Another year 
is opening upon our poor earth. Would to 
God it might bring with it less sorrow, less 
sin; and my heart is whispering, ‘ Do thy 
share, try and fulfill thy duties and there will 
be a little less. Once more, here are good re¬ 
solutions. How long will they last ? No mat¬ 
ter, I can keep trying; and if there is no good 
comes of them, I will not have to say I did not 
make an effort. A long year to look forward 
to ; I trust some one will pray for me that it 
may not be altogether lost.” 

. “ Convent of the Congregation, St. Eus- 
tache, January Wi , 1857 — My dear Mother : 
Your long letter contained much pleasing news. 
I have but a few moments more to write before 
sending my letter to Helen. I am/happy to 
hear you are all so well, and enjoying your¬ 
selves so much. I wish you a happy New 
Year, and all at home. My birthday is past, 
and I enjoyed it very well here in St. Eus- 
tache. It being Sunday, I attended church 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


151 


morning and evening. Helen will tell you of 
the feast the day before. I am now nineteen ! 
Getting along wonderfully in years ; I can 
hardly realize (time goes so swiftly,) that I 
am somewhat advanced in years. However, it 
is so. The Misses B—■ you speak of, I think 
I have seen one of them once. I have heard 
them very highly spoken of by Mrs. S—, as 
well as their brother. Give my love to father; 
tell him I wish him a very happy New Year, 
and the greatest blessings with it. Give my 
love also to all my friends. Tell E— my let¬ 
ter was written some time ago, and 1 intended 
to send it, but forgot it. I shall write again 
soon and a longer letter, but it is growing 
dark and I must stop now. S— sends her 
best wishes for the year. Yours affectionately, 
Debbie, Enfant de Marie” 

Diary: “ Sunday, Jan. 11th, 1857. * * Have 
attended church as usual ; there is little need 
of saying this. Since I am a Catholic, I believe 
I generally go to church on Sundays —some¬ 
what different from old times, when I used to 
do as I chose about such matters. ‘ A change 
came o’er the spirit of my dream/ or I might 


152 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


say, I awoke from my slumbers , and now I am 
under blessed obedience, thank God.” 

“ Convent of the Congregation, St. Eus- 
tache, Jan. 1 8th, 1857 —My dear Mother: 
Your letters from home were received with 
true pleasure yesterday. I was sorry to hear 
that you had been suffering from one of your 
headaches, but I trust you are now much bet¬ 
ter. No other bad news was to be found in 
the five short notes, unless the loss of our 
State House, by fire, be mentioned. I had not 
heard of it before your note arrived. * * * * 
And now, for news at home. I suppose you 
are making some changes front what you say. 
I shall see when I get home. Of course, I am 
interested in them all. Father sent me word 
he had bought a new span of horses. It will 
give you all a great deal of pleasure, I am 
sure; if I am not mistaken you will make good 
use of them. Anna wrote me that she and 
Helen were going to Fairfax, to spend a week 
at Mr. B—’s, of course. I was most happy to 
hear that their coughs were so much better, 
and hope they will continue so. Have you had 
much company this winter? I imagine Fairfield 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


153 


quite pleasant about these davs. You have 
had some pleasant additions to your society, 
too. Some of you asked how I spent Christ¬ 
mas. I send the letter I wrote to Helen at 
the time, and did not send it for some reason 
now forgotten. I hope you all enjoyed your¬ 
selves. The girls wrote to me about their 
presents, and when 1 go to Montreal I will 
look for mine to them. I do not know how 
soon that will be. I may go in to attend a 
ceremony some time this month ; if not, then 
probably not until Holy Week. I find a great 
deal of pleasuro in going to the city, but I am 
troubled greatly with sleigh-sickness, when I 
ride this winter. * * Ma Tante S— is never 
any other way than pleasant. They laugh at 
us for being always together. * * * The other 
nun here says we save her a great deal of 
trouble, for she need never ask but one what 
she will have, or what she would like. What 
one has the other must have ; what one likes 
the other likes also. I am very well. Give 
my love to father ; tell him I am happy to 
hear of his improvements ; hope he is in good 


154 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


health. Let me hear soon and often. Your af¬ 
fectionate daughter Debbie, Enfant de Marie.” 

This note to her sister Charlotte accom¬ 
panied the foregoing letter. 

“ Convent of the Congregation — My 
dear little Charlotte: Your letter gave me the 
greatest pleasure. I wish you would write 
often. I heard from mother that you could 
write very well, before your letter arrived, and 
you must practice. I am glad your pictures 
pleased you ; and your New Year’s present 
from father and mother. You could not have 
had a nicer one, in your sister Debbie’s es¬ 
timation. I cannot tell you much which will 
interest you. Only know you are often thought 
of by me every day, every day ; and when I 
see you next summer, I will tell you all about 
my school, my friends, and my adventures at 

St. Eustache. Ma Tante S-sends love. 

Yours truly, Debbie, Enfant de Marie. 

“ P. S.—I suppose you have fine drives this 
winter and high times. Do you grow as fast 
as ever ? If so, you will be quite out of my 
remembrance.” 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


155 


Diary: “ Feb. Sth, 1857—This is a memora¬ 
ble day for me. Just four years ago this morn¬ 
ing, I saw for the first time a convent. Many 
changes in many things since that time. A 
real God-send being sent to Montreal! When 
shall I be able to appreciate, as I should, the 
privileges I received there ? Feb. 9 th —Four 
years ago, I entered as a scholar the convent 
at Montreal. How changed is everything 
since then! 1 look back and wonder at my 

sentiments. I think of my first night there, 
and my first visit to a Catholic chapel. How 
well I remember the hymns, sung to the Bless¬ 
ed Virgin, the statues and paintings, altars 
and crucifixes that horrified me so much. How 
contented I felt though, in spite of my at¬ 
tempts to look on the dark side of everything. 
How calm were those first hours in my con¬ 
vent home. I knew not why my heart could 
not find anything to dislike, although it tried. 
Trouble only came when doubts rushed like 
torrents upon me ; doubts of my safety, the 
safety of my soul. What was I doing to gain 
Heaven? Was I in darkness or in light? 
Alas ! I found myself going on like one blind 


156 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


without a guide! without a thought of the pre¬ 
cipice, towards which I was hastening. But 
these things have made that spot dearer than 
life to me. There I found that precious 
treasure, without which time is long, life is all 
dreariness and eternity is misery without a 
hope of change. * * *” 

“ St. Eustache, Feb. 17 th, 1857. My Dear 
Mother —I received your letter with th ^intel¬ 
ligence of your sickness ; I need not say that 
I am most happy to know that you are so far 
recovered. I hope you will continue as well 
as you are at present. Our winter has been 
very severe. * * * We expect to go to Mon¬ 
treal in about two weeks, if the weather is 
not too bad—when we have more snow to 
give us some sleighing. Helen has, I suppose, 
returned from Fairfax. Has had a pleasant 
time undoubtedly, and Anna also. I am glad 
you find the new-comers so pleasant, and hope 
they will remain in Fairfield. * * * I suppose 

you know L-J-s has gone to Chicago. 

Her father is again married. She wrote me a 
few days ago ; is very well contented, and 
likes the city so far as she knows anything of 




TIIE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


157 


it. She sent her love to you all. your girls 
have left you—whom have you now, and how 
do you like them ? Grandmother is failing, 
you say ; I suppose she does not leave her 
room. Has father returned ? I imagine he 
is gone as much as ever. Give my love to 
him. I should be most happy to receive the 
paper he spoke of—hope it will come. My 
love to E-, and kiss her babe for me. Re¬ 
member me to A-S-, and any one who 

may inquire. * * *” I remain, as ever, your 
affectionate daughter, Debbie S. Barlow, 
Enfant de Marie ” 

“ March 8th—My Dear Mother —Your let¬ 
ter and Helen’s were received yesterday, and 
as usual, this afternoon, after Vespers, I have 
time to answer them. I am glad to hear 
you are so much better. * * * * We are hav¬ 
ing beautiful weather, after a series of stormy 
days. I have had a cold, but have now recov¬ 
ered. Just a few days before Lent com¬ 
menced, the nuns made me take a good dose 
of castor oil, and I find it has been a benefit to 
me ; I imagine they wish me to eat more than 
usual during the fast days. I am quite well 

14 




158 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


now, and everything goes on nicely. I went 
to Montreal last week. I shall not go again 
until the snow goes off, for I was terribly 
sleigh-sick, both going and coming home. I 

had the pleasure of meeting Mr. S-of St. 

Albans, in the city. I had been out doing a 

little shopping for Ma Tante S-, and when 

returning, met him on the side-walk. He said 
he saw father a few days before. He knew 
me, and of course , I knew him. Probably he 
has seen some of you since, and told you. I 
only stayed in Montreal one night; had but 
very little time there, and felt most of that as 
I do after being on a boat. I am glad to hear 
you are enjoying yourselves this winter. 
Helen seems to be perfectly well. Of this I 
am not sorry to hear, and she seems to be en¬ 
joying the winter finely. Is A- G- 

yet married? I supposed she was to have 
been, long ago. * * Everything goes on the 

same as ever at the missions. S-is just 

as kind and good as ever, and takes care of 

me well. Sister-is always pleasant, 

and says she shall learn to speak English, 
quarrelling with me! She does not under- 




THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


159 


stand our language very well. It is some time 
since I heard from the younger members of 
our family, Anna, Laura, and Charlotte. Tell 
them they must write to me. * * * *” About 
the time this letter was written, we were fa¬ 
vored with a visit from dear Helen. Her 
presence was always like a sunbeam in our 
shadowed home ; she was so brilliant and 
mirthful. How dearly we loved the graceful 
and almost pensive serenity of our contem¬ 
plative Debbie, and the energetic, active ear¬ 
nestness of the practical Anna, will be known 
only when the secrets of all hearts are re¬ 
vealed ; but Helen, our sweet Helen, nestled 
into our home in the wilderness like a bird 
that was native there, filling the echoing for¬ 
ests with the melody of her angelic songs, and 
enlivening every scene with the gayety of her 
innocent heart. Dear to our hearts as are 
the memories of all these charming sisters, we 
still linger upon those connected with the 
“ first flown” of the three, with tender emo¬ 
tions gushing up from abysses, the depths of 
which these alone have the power to stir, 


160 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


while we exclaim, “ Oh, Helen was our beau¬ 
tiful, our lovely, and our best beloved one !” 

“St. Eustache, March VS: My Dear Mo¬ 
ther —My things came yesterday by express. 
Your taste was very good in selecting them, 
and all suited. Many, many thanks for all. 
I wrote you a few days since, and write now 
merely to acknowledge the reception of the 
box. * * I hope you will excuse my haste. 
I received several newspapers with the box, 
and was right glad to get them. * * *” 
The following letter from Helen, to a very 
dear Aunt, was written about this time. 

“Fairfield, March 25th, 1857 : My Dear 
Aunt —Pardon my long silence. I really can 
not give any good reason for not writing be¬ 
fore, only that I have felt so little inclined to 
write. All my correspondents have been ne¬ 
glected in the same way, and they have good 
reason to complain. Why did you think, my 
dear Aunt, that I was not happy ? Surely I 
am. I think I can safely say that not a hap¬ 
pier heart beats in human breast than mine ; 
it was not so once. I have known what it w as 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


161 


to be unhappy. For long, years I sighed for 
happiness, and could not find it. There was 
an aching void in my heart that even the 
knowledge that I was beloved, by a human be¬ 
ing like myself, could not fill; and what will 
fill the human heart with pleasure like the 
knowledge of being beloved ? But it was not 
human love I sighed for, but the love of my 
God! I now have found the abiding rest for 
which I sighed so long, and I am happy, happy . 
Earth hardly satisfies my longing desires ; only 
in Heaven, where faith is turned to sight, can 
I be fully satisfied. Oh! what a blessed thing 
it is to know that our sins are washed away in 
the all-atoning Blood of our Redeemer! Oh 
that we were not bound down to earth by this 
load of flesh, but could soar far above it— 
and the sins that every day leave a stain upon 
our robe of baptismal innocence—and sing 
the praises of our Redeemer, where sin can no 
more cloud our visions of his brightness ! The 
heart can not but be impatient, yet it is better 
for us to remain for a while, that God may be 
glorified in us, for we will conquer Satan, and 
God shall have the glory. Trials are sent to 


162 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


perfect us—are they not, Aunty ? Oh! that 
more might be sent me, for this world gives 
me none, and I shall be detained long, very 
long, if no fire is sent to purify me here. 
Sometimes I am weary struggling against temp¬ 
tations, and then I know God is displeased 
with me ; therefore He deems me not worthy of 
those trials He sends to those He loves. * * ” 

We return to the Diary at St. Eustache. 

“April 9th, Holy Thursday : Went to High 
Mass, and received Holy Communion. At 
three o’clock we went to visit the Blessed 
Sacrament, and remained an hour. The Re¬ 
pository looks very well. In the evening we 
went again at about six o’clock, to secure 
good seats for the evening prayers. We were 
directly in front of the altar, and had arrived 
long enough before the time appointed, to have 
a full half hour, quiet and undisturbed. The 
stillness, the silent few who were paying their 
adorations to Jesus in His Sacrament of Love, 
the dim light of the tapers, and the thought 
which kept coming to my heart, that my God 
was there really, not in imagination, but truly 
present, listening to the petitions of His crea- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


1G3 


tures, made me feel that all of this earth was 
little worth our love, and that the most we 
could do for Him was nothing in comparison 
with His great, unlimited love for us ; and I, 
who should be, the whole day and every day. 
doing something in return for His graces, 
often forget Him! At eleven o'clock, ma 

Tante S-awoke me, as I had requested, 

and we went to the chapel to remain an hour, 
in commemoration of our Saviour’s agony in 
the garden—the first time I have ever passed 
that hour before the Blessed Sacrament.” 
“ April 10 th. Good Friday ! A day which is 
ever dearer to me than any other of the year 
can be!—one in which I love to spend hours 
in thinking of the past, in bringing to mind 
my first thoughts on entering a Catholic 
chapel on that day, four years ago. Why 
speak of it now ? Meditation is more- suited 
to my feelings than words , at this time !” 

“ Convent op the Congregation, St. Eus- 
tache, April 12 th, 1857 —My Dear Father : 
Your letter was received yesterday, and I need 
not say that it gave me the greatest imagina¬ 
ble pleasure. It was almost too good for Lent, 


164 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


but to have left it until to-day would have 
been too great a sacrifice. I was not strong 
enough for that, and it was read and re-read 
with as much delight as if it had been one of 
the most joyous feasts of the year, instead of 
Holy Saturday. To-day I could not fail to 
answer it. Your letter was unexpected, 
therefore it gave me a great surprise. Your 
account of your stay in Washington was very 
interesting. I noticed in particular what you 
said in regard to your visit at Judge Doug¬ 
las’s ; I heard he had married a young Cath¬ 
olic lady ; I am glad you found her so inter¬ 
esting. Is Uncle-still in Washington? 

I heard of him in Washington, and Aunt- 

with him, about the time of the Inauguration. 
I have heard of late a little of the public af¬ 
fairs at home, for the St. Albans Messenger 
lias arrived regularly for the last few weeks. 
I had the pleasure of reading the Inaugural 
Address of Mr. Buchanan, and a description 
of the 4th of March at the Capitol, in a 
French paper published in Montreal. You 
ask how I am, how I like, etc. My health is 
good ; I have never been better. The nuns 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


165 


here are two excellent persons. S-you 

knew long ago, at least by reputation. I am 
sure I never could have found persons more 
kind than they are. We do not often go out 
to call, but we have visits from the first fami¬ 
lies of the parish—and there is some very 
good society here, I assure you. I find the 
French exceedingly pleasant people, and very 
polite—great talkers, and consequently good 
company ; much gayer than the Americans, 
but seem to have less stability. Upon the 
whole, I like them extremely well. But to re¬ 
turn to my subject: Speaking of the nuns 
here, I find the situation pleasant in every re¬ 
spect, and if things continue the same after 
vacation, I would like to return in September, 
since you desire that I should continue French, 
and I desire it myself also. At present, I un¬ 
derstand all of common conversation, and 

nearly all I read. S-says I am a little 

proud about speaking , before her at least, for 
she speaks both languages perfectly well. 
However, the other Sister here speaks nothing 
but French. Afternoon : I have returned 
from church, and think I shall have time, be- 



166 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


fore Vespers, to finish my letter. To-day is 
the first time it has looked quite as though 
Spring had come. * * * We have had a 
strange winter, so changeable; not so much 
more severe than others, but decidedly freaky. 
* * Give my love to mother, and all at home. 
I hope to have the pleasure of hearing again 
from you. My father could not give me 
greater joy. And now, until I see you, re¬ 
member that my thoughts are often with you ; 
not a day, no, perhaps not an hour, that my 
best wishes are not spoken, or, at least, men¬ 
tally desired for your welfare. If I cannot 
do anything in return for your solicitude for 
me in one way, perhaps I can in another. Once 
more, good-bye. * * * Your affectionate 
child, Debbie S. Barlow, Enfant de Marie 
“ Congregation op Notre Dame, St. Eus- 
tache, April 14 tli, J 57 —My Dear Mother-■ — 
Your letter has just been received, and I have 
only to say in reply to your questions : That 
gentleman and myself are no more than friends , 
and there has never been any engagement ex¬ 
isting. Now I have told you this many times 
before, and tell you again that this may end 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


167 


the matter! I am not one of the persons who 
trouble themselves over and above much about 
such matters ; this you must know. Whether 
I shall ever be engaged to any one is another 
question, which time will solve. If I never am, 
you may rest assured I shall live just as long 
and be quite as well contented. You must 
know, in seeing your daughters Catholics, that 
their chances are few, so far as the prospects 
of this world are concerned ; but do not im¬ 
agine they are discouraged at this. Far from 
it! When I became a member of the Cath¬ 
olic Church, I did not lose , I gained. I lost no¬ 
thing, not even if all the fondest pleasures of 
life were sacrificed ; I gained what this world 
can never give! — what our holy religion 
alone can bestow! Yes, I gained, I repeat it, 
and in becoming one of the children of the 
Church of Christ, I counted everything in this 
world as mere nothing compared with the priv¬ 
ileges I enjoy as a Catholic Christian! So do 
not fear for me! I am not sorry for anything I 
have done or have had to do. You know the 
Catholic Church forbids marriage with Pro¬ 
testants, and I am most happy to think she 


168 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


does. Protestants abhor our religion, and so 
we are equal. You seem to think that I am 
needed at home; I shall follow the will of God, 
which seems to demand I should spend a por¬ 
tion of my life there at any rate. Do not give 
yourself further trouble.—I am a reasonable 
person, and if I live and die an “ old maid ” at 
Fairfield, I shall not care. I expect a long 
time will see me there.” 

“ Congregation of Notre Dame, St. Eus- 
tache, April 17 tft, ’57. My Dear Mother —I 
received your letter containing the sad intel¬ 
ligence of grandmother’s death. I could not 
feel otherwise than that it was better so, since 
she has been so long failing and her mind so 
much impaired. Still let Death come when it 
will, and where it may, it is always sad. It 
gives to each one a time for reflection, and a 
new impulse to the soul to prepare and be al¬ 
ways ready, for even if we reach an old age, 
still we must at last yield to Death and go. 
Earth is not our abiding place! I hope fa¬ 
ther reached home in time for the funeral—did 
he ? At last Aunts D — and L— reached home 
before her death. I am very glad of it, especi- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


1G9 


ally on your account. I shall look for a letter 
soon, giving more of the particulars. Father 
wrote me while in Wasliington, and I have an¬ 
swered his letter, which was received on Holy 
Saturday. He will regret his absence, I am 
sure, at this time ; however, if grandmother 
was unconscious, it could not have been a 
great consolation to have seen her. Who con¬ 
ducted the funeral services?—that is, what 
clergyman ? And the friends,—were there 
many present ? I presume you are tired 
enough. I hope you will not get sick. S— 
sends her love, and condoles with you in your 
affliction. Let me hear soon again. * * * ” 
Diary: “April 30 th .—This morning we had 
Mass, and all received Holy' Communion. A 
happy day again. Yes ! a thrice happy day ! 
It seems as if the hour spent this morning was 
so short—passed so quickly! Oh, my God! 
and hast Thou been here in my heart once 
more! Yes! there is no room for doubt! 
Faith, blessed faith, teaches us this : that He, 
our Creator, disdains not to come and feed 
our souls with that Heavenly Bread ! Yes, 
He comes !—were I not assured by the very 

15 


no 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


words of His mouth, I should be tempted to 
think He could not have loved us so! but why 
speak ? He comes ! Oh, my soul! in such a 
moment as this what canst thou say ? Canst 
thou know that it is thy Jesus and live ? 
Canst thou feel that He is so near, opening 
His treasures, purifying thee from the stains 
of sin, pouring His graces upon thee, and re¬ 
main indifferent? Canst thou know that He 
who has come from heaven, has been made 
man, has suffered and died upon the Cross 
for love of thee, and now crowns all by com¬ 
ing to take up His abode with thee ?—canst 
thou know all this , and not feel that there is 
no pleasure in the world but that which is 
found in His service ? Can my heart be cold, 
when I have Him, who is all love for me, as 
its guest ? Ah! it is too often so ! Yes ! my 
God, how often do I approach to receive Thee 
with little love, with perhaps a very faint de¬ 
sire of possessing Thee. But to-day is passed. 
I have had the happiness of receiving another 
visit from my Redeemer this morning; Oh! 
would that I might keep his graces, that I 
might live one day without willingly offending 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


171 


Him. Alas! while I live, I am always in dan¬ 
ger of being ungrateful towards my God.” 

“May 1st —The anniversary of Helen’s bap¬ 
tism. One year ago I stood beside her at the 
Altar and saw the regenerating waters de¬ 
scend upon her. Oh ! what a joyous day—but 
all joy is mingled with sorrow ! A year has 
passed, and to-day I am far separated from 
that dear sister, but in spirit I have been with 
her. I offered my Communion yesterday for 
her, and she has often been with me in my ac¬ 
tions since. I am sure she is not sad to-day, 
even though the sacrifice has been great which 
has been required from her; still the recom¬ 
pense will be much greater.” 

About this time, a rumor began to circulate 
in Vermont that Debbie was intending to be¬ 
come a nun, and had even taken some prelimi¬ 
nary vow in that direction. Her parents were 
greatly distressed upon hearing this report, 
and caused Helen to write immediately, inquir¬ 
ing of her as to its truth. In reply to that 
letter, she says : 

“ St. Eustache, May 1 6th, ’57 —My Dear 
Parents —I have just received Helen’s letter, 


172 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


dated the 12tli, and am somewhat surprised to 
hear that you are all in so much anxiety about 
my becoming a nun ! When I left home, I 
gave my word that I would return ; my inten¬ 
tion is not otherwise at present. I have made 
that promise ; it will be fulfilled perfectly. I 
shall be at home, at the farthest, the last week 
in July ; I give my word for it, and you may 
Expect me if I am living, and when there, 
shall probably remain as long as you will 
want me. Every one seems to imagine that I 
am in great haste. I wish to assure you that 

Mr.-, of whom you speak, (or rather Helen 

does in her letter,) expects nothing else than 
that I should return to Vermont, and desires 
nothing else ; therefore, I imagine he has been 
far from spreading any such reports as you 
have heard. I am very well and very con¬ 
tented, as usual. I hope you are all in good 
health at home. I received the money father 
sent, and thank him very much for it. I shall 
probably go to Montreal the last week of this 
month. I receive the St. Albans Messenger 
regularly. It has just come with Helen’s let¬ 
ter. I perceive she is much engaged in her 



THE YOUNG CONVERTS. H3 

school. Do not let her get sick, for when I 
go home, I shall want all in good trim. As I 
suppose, after a year’s absence, the news will 
be plenty ; I shall wish to hear all, and it re¬ 
quires some one who talks about as fast as 
Helen does, to tell them. My love to all. I 
hope to hear soon and often. Your affection¬ 
ate child, Debbie Barlow, Enfant de Marie” 
Diary : “May 17 th. I am very anxious to 
hear again from home, for I am in constant 
dread that they may come for me. I begin to 
feel sad to think vacations are near, and I 
must again leave the Convent of the Congre- 
gation. I shall soon wish to be back, after 
my return home, and I imagine the long hours 
when I shall sigh for the happiness of convent 
life, the quiet of St. Eustache, and, more than 
all, the frequent visits to Montreal. It is said 
that ‘ home is where the heart is.’ I know 
well , then, where mine is ; and when I shall be 
far away, my thoughts will often wander back 
to the Congregation of Notre Dame, and 
there find their resting-place. Splendor 
speaks in vain to an exile ; and pleasure, 
short-lived, deceitful pleasure, relieves but for 

15 * 


TIIE YOUNG CONVERTS 


114 

an instant the pain of banishment. Amidst 
the noise and bustle of a busy world, sur¬ 
rounded by vanity and fading joys, his heart 
turns from this strange land, and finds its hap- 
piness but in thoughts of Home ! And thus 
shall I feel when once more I leave my con¬ 
vent home. I have already experienced the 
pain of absence from that loved spot, and the 
second time will be worse than the first. But 
hope on, hope ever ; there may be an end of 
it before very long! God’s will, not mine, be 
done. I leave all things in His hands, and 
with the Blessed Virgin to assist me, all must 
be right.”—It may be proper to notice here, a 
feature, not the least singular among those 
which characterized her remarkable religious 
life, that with all her yearning fondness and 
devoted attachment to her dear “ convent 
home” and its holy inmates, she never felt that 
she was destined to be a member of that fa¬ 
vored community. I was indeed verj much 
surprised in the course of the first conversa¬ 
tion I had with her, (some months after the 
death of her sister Helen,) upon a subject so 
sacred, that it should be approached by those 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


175 


in secular life with the greatest reverence, to 
find that while she felt assured of her voca¬ 
tion to consecrate her life at some future pe¬ 
riod to God, it was also clearly indicated to 
her as His will that, (whatever sacrifice it 
might cost her,) the oblation should be laid 
upon the altar of the corporal works of 
Mercy, in her own country, and among her 
own people. Knowing nothing whatever of 
the Sisters of Mercy, their rule or the condi¬ 
tions of entrance into the Order, she still felt 
herself drawn to that Institute, and desired 
to partake with them in those labors which 
should entitle her to claim a share also in that 
gracious invitation of Him, whom alone she 
desired to serve in His poor, “ Come ye 
blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom 
prepared for you from the foundation of the 
world. For I was hungry and you gave me 
meat; I was thirsty and you gave me drink ; 
I was a stranger and you took me in ; naked 
and you clothed me ; I was sick, and you vis¬ 
ited me ; I was in prison, and you came unto 
me.” Although He did not permit her to re¬ 
alize her ardent desire in this world, we can- 


116 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 

not doubt that He will bestow the same re¬ 
ward upon her in another for her pious and 
sincere intentions, as if she had lived to fulfill 
them. 

The letter last presented to the reader did 
not prove at all satisfactory to lfer father, who 
still feared she entertained intentions which 
were far from her thoughts at that time. He, 
therefore, wrote to her himself, requesting an 
explicit and decided answer to his questions. 
She replied : 

“ Congregation of Notre Dame, St. Eus- 
tache, May 29 th, 1857—3/?/ Dear Parents : 
I have just received the answer to my letter, 
and am somewhat surprised that my reply to 
Helen’s last, was not a sufficient assurance 
against the reports that are circulating in Ver¬ 
mont. I thought I was plain enough , but as it 
seems to be necessary, I will write again. I 
cannot see why you should put so much de¬ 
pendence upon what you hear. I have never 
taken any votes, and, more than that, never 
said I would, to any living being. I have no 
other intention, at present, than that which I 
expressed in my last letter. As for what fu- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


177 

ture years may bring forth, I cannot say, nor 
any one else ; for the present, you may con¬ 
tent yourselves, for I have come to no such 
decision as you have heard. But now, since 
you have so poor an opinion of my truth , and 
you seem to think that this defect has arisen 
in my character since I have embraced the 
Catholic faith, I wish to say a few words. I 
am very sorry that my good Father has this 
opinion of me, but I would much prefer him to 
cast the slur upon me, than upon the Holy Re¬ 
ligion I profess ; but that he shall not have 
cause to complain of me on this subject, I will 
repeat what I have often said at home ; that 
is, that no one need ever expect me to form 
any engagement, or dream that I will ever 
enter the married life! This is a thing long 
ago settled ,—a fixed determination, which is 
just as strong now as ever. * * * My resolu¬ 
tion you have often heard. I suppose there is 
no need of further explanations. I have 
given you what I think to be a frank answer 
to your questions, and regard for your feelings 
has been my principle. Yes, it has always 
been ; and what pains me the most of any- 


178 THE YOUNG CONVERTS 

thing in this world is, that my father has such 
an opinion of me as to think I would afflict 
him willingly. If he could know how I felt, 
when reading his letter—how many tears of 
sorrow I have shed over the thought that he 
believes me heartless , he would not repeat the 
assertion ! I think I have given him sufficient 
proofs that I respect his commands, that I love 
to do all that he can desire, when it does not 
go contrary to my first duty, which is to my 
God! And he should know that on this 
earth, my affections are for my parents. I 
have none, I shall never have any one before 
them. I need not repeat these words—they 
are only too familiar to you now. I hope you 
will cease to be uneasy, and believe me to be 
happy and contented. Your affectionate 
child, M. D. Barlow, Enfant de Marie” 

The only communication we have from her, 
during the remainder of her stay at St. Eus- 
tache, is the following letter : “ Congregation 
of Notre Dame, St. Eustache, June 7,1857. 
My Dear Mother ,—Yours was received yes¬ 
terday morning. It gave me much pleasure 
to hear that you were all well. I hope Helen 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


m 


will not get sick with lier cold. I imagine the 
weather in Vermont has been something like 
ours here. In fact we have had but one or 
two warm days, and at present it is quite cold. 
If warm weather does not come faster than 
this, I shall not feel it much. * * * I sup¬ 
pose you have plenty to do, as usual. I im¬ 
agine I see you sometimes in the garden. S— 
has a fondness for flowers equal to yours, and 
her pupils have been bringing any quantities 
to her all the Spring. When she has a mo¬ 
ment’s time she is sure to be weeding or at¬ 
tending to her plants in some way. You have 
not sent me any word about your garden. I 
am not able to tell you yet exactly what time 
I shall be home, for the day of our examina¬ 
tion is not yet fixed. I do not think the warm 
weather will affect me much—I am so well 
now, and there are only about six weeks be¬ 
fore the close of school. At present we are 
preparing for our examinations, and of course 
all in a hurry. The young ladies here are pre¬ 
paring two Dramas to be acted, one in Eng¬ 
lish, and the other in French. The former 1 
have the care of exercising, of course. It is 


180 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


not very long, and they learn it pretty well for 
children who are only studying English. The 
French piece is very beautiful. When the 
programme is made out I will send you one. 
That will be before long. We have about 

forty children now—that is, ma Tante S-’s 

class—and Sister L- has about the same 

number. The Congregation has two hundred 
and four professed nuns, and they have so 
much to do that it is impossible to have three 
on this mission. The novices number 'over 
twenty, and not one-third of them are at the 
community—all on missions; and those who 
are making their first year’s noviciate, number¬ 
ing over thirty, are most of them in the sub¬ 
urbs of Montreal teaching the poor. Sister 

L-scolds a good deal to think she cannot 

get another to assist her ; but she does not 
effect much by it. I have no more time to 
write. Give my love to father and the chil¬ 
dren. Your true Debbie, Enfant de Alarie.” 

At the close of the examinations at St. Eus- 
tache, in the latter part cf July, 1S57, Debbie 
went with her beloved “ Tante” to Montreal, 
where they met the father of that lady, who 



THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 181 

had come to take the young sister (mentioned 
by Debbie in her letters as a pupil of the 
institution, and who has since become a mem¬ 
ber of that holy Order,) home for the vaca¬ 
tion. He urged Debbie with such cordial 
politeness to accompany his daughter and him¬ 
self to Quebec for a visit, that he succeeded 
in overruling the hesitation she felt at first, 
but her parents might be unpleasantly disap¬ 
pointed by this further delay of her return 
home. She therefore wrote to them explain¬ 
ing the cause of that delay, and accepted the 
invitation. She felt herself bound to the kin¬ 
dred of one, to whom she owed so much as a 
Catholic, by far stronger ties than those of or¬ 
dinary friendship. Two weeks were passed 
most agreeably in the pleasant family of that 
friend, during which she received every atten¬ 
tion from its whole circle that affection and 
admiration could prompt. She always re¬ 
curred with grateful pleasure to the recollec¬ 
tions connected with that visit, and the con¬ 
sideration and regard with which she was 
treated by all. They, on their part, were 

charmed with their lovely guest, and have ever 
16 


182 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


remembered her with sentiments of affectionate 
esteem, bordering upon veneration, for the sur¬ 
passing loveliness of her character, person and 
manners. She was also very much admired in 
Quebec beyond that family circle, as well as 
in the other parts of Canada where she was 
seen, and had not her irrevocable choice as to 
her future state of life been made known, she 
would not have lacked numerous opportunities 
for establishing herself, (in a worldly point of 
view,) in the most desirable position. About 
a month after her return from St. Eustaclie, we 
received another visit from her and her sister 
Helen, whose health was beginning to exhibit 
symptoms that awakened the most lively ap¬ 
prehensions in our hearts, as w^ell as in that of 
her sister, on her account. Indeed, among the 
most touching of our cherished memories of 
the sisters, are those of the solicitude, (more 
maternal than sisterly,) which Debbie con¬ 
stantly manifested for her precious Helen, and 
the loving appreciation with which they were 
received, while the acceptance of them was 
always marked by some mischievous drollery 
or merry conceit on the part of the recipient 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


183 


which was all her own. Their natures, dis¬ 
tinctly marked by opposite attributes and wide 
diversities of temperament, seemed to be drawn 
into still closer union by those very contrasts. 
The isolated position in which they stood, 
bound so lovingly together by the golden links 
of the Catholic faith, made the thought of 
their possible separation by death even more 
painful to their Catholic friends, to whom they 
were inexpressibly dear, than to themselves— 
so well had they learned at that early period 
of life, by the aid of peculiar trials, the diffi¬ 
cult lesson of perfect conformity to the will 
of God, which is rarely acquired during the 
varied experiences of a long life. We had but 
just entered upon the enjoyment of their visit, 
when a distresssing accident, which befell a 
member of our family interrupted the pleasure, 
and was the means of hastening their depar¬ 
ture. They left us, however, with the promise 
of an early return to finish the visit. It would 
have been a sorrowful parting indeed for us, 
if we had known that the promise was des¬ 
tined never to be fulfilled, and their presence 
together, (in consequence of changes in our do- 


184 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


mestic arrangements, which brought a large 
accession to the numbers of our household, for 
that year,) was never again to enliven our 
solitudes. The following extract from a letter, 
written by Debbie, to a young friend from the 
southern part of the State, (then attending 
school in Burlington,) whose recent conver¬ 
sion had filled the hearts of Catholics with 
joy, will,. I am sure, be interesting to our 
readers : 

“ Fairfield, October Ylth, 1857.—Sunday 
Evening. My Dear Miss —My Sister Helen 
has teased me to night until I have promised 
to write to you before I go to sleep. I had 
intended to do so myself, but not being very 
well, had given it up. Although our acquaint¬ 
ance has been so very short, still the interest 
is as great, which we feel for you and your sis¬ 
ter, as though we had been friends for years. 
And why should it not be so ? Called as we 
have been, so similarly to the Catholic faith, 
alone as we are, the oldest of our families— 
we can not but feel drawn to sympathize with 
one another. I have long desii ed to meet and 
know both yourself and your estimable sister 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


185 


whom I have heard spoken of so frequently. 
I have learned to look to my Catholic friends 
for pleasure, and may I not number you among 
them? * * * The heart yearns oftentimes 
for some one with whom something else can be 
spoten of' beside the vanities of this world. 
To-day I heard a sermon which made me think 
of you as well as myself. It was on 1 Thanks¬ 
giving for the Gift of Faith.’’ Truly we are 
among the number who have reason to be 
thankful to Almighty God! * * * We can¬ 
not speak half we feel! Of our heart's senti¬ 
ments we have to keep the greater share to 
ourselves ; for can we speak when the soul is 
most absorbed in the one great theme —Jesus 
our Beloved ? Still we can help each other in 
our bearing of His Cross, and the encouraging 
word of a friend in the trials of this life are 
like balm upon the wounded spirit. The hand 
of Charity, given to assist us in our journey 
through this vale of tears, is ever welcome. 
Then we will be friends—will we not ? Let 
our prayers be united for the conversion of 
those near and dear to us, and for our perse¬ 
verance. Give my love to your sister; send 


186 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


my letter to her if you choose. I should be 
most happy to hear from her if she will favor 
me so much. Heleu sends love. * * She 
will write when she is able. Let us hear from 
you very soon. We should be so delighted ! 
Remember us in your fervent prayers.” * * 

She writes again to the same friend: 

“ Fairfield, Nov. 13 , 1857 . My very Bear 
Friend — I need not assure you that your re¬ 
ply to my letter received a most hearty wel¬ 
come, from both my sister and myself; firstly, 
from the fact of our regard for the writer ; 
and secondly, the very pleasing news which 
the letter contained—that of your sister’s bap¬ 
tism. Yes! I can rejoice with you over the 
entrance of a soul so dear to you into the fold 
of Jesus Christ. * * I have joined with 

you all in thanksgiving for the gift of Faith 
which has been bestowed upon her while yet 
so young. You may well say, it would be a 
happy thing could slie^die before sin had sul¬ 
lied her baptismal robe! And yet, if so it 
could be, no occasion would she have had to 
prove her love for our dearest Lord. * * 

Life is not so dark as we often feel it is, if we 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


1ST 


only spent it in working for Him who has 
done so much for us! True there is always 
sin in this poor world, and this almost tempts 
me to wish 1 had died in some happy hour 
when my soul was in a state of grace; but 
then the thought comes to me, I must not be 
lazy. Jesus desires us to work awhile here, 
and, though poor laborers , we surely can not 
refuse the little we can do. However, I think 
lie favors those whom He calls to an early 
home. They seem to be pure souls, whom He 
can not bear to see remaining here to suffer. 
But to return to your sister J. : give my love 
to her, and tell her that I shall expect a share 
in her prayers. * * * I, too, my dear friend, 
have seen a beloved sister received into our 
Holy Church. It was one of the happiest 
days of my life, and the hour when I saw her 
renounce the world and its vain joys, I could 
not but recall the same time in my own life, 
and live it over again. * * Time passes away 
and I am little aware that nearly two years 
have elapsed since I made my profession of the 
Catholic Faith! I am still finding neiv beau¬ 
ties, and so I suppose we always shall. In 


188 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


thanksgiving for the great blessings we have 
received, what could we do too much ? I am 
writing while Helen sleeps. She has not 
been as well for the past few weeks. I am 
somewhat discouraged about her. Her cough 
is very troublesome, and many of her symp¬ 
toms are worse. Her spirits are always gay. 
She sends love to you and your sister also.” 

Helen’s health continued to decline during 
the succeeding winter, though so gradually as 
hardly to be perceptible from week to week. 
In the early part of that winter, their friends 
had decided upon their accompanying some 
acquaintances who were expecting to pass that 
season in Florida, and every preparation and 
arrangement was made for their departure. 
Subsequent and unforeseen occurrences com¬ 
pelled those acquaintances to relinquish the 
plan, and they also gave it up much to Helen’s 
relief, for she had regarded it with reluctance 
from the first. She seemed to feel quite sure 
that the disease, which was upon her, had al¬ 
ready advanced too far to be arrested by any 
change of climate, and that she should be sub¬ 
jected to much fatigue and many discomforts 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


189 


without realizing any permanent benefit, which 
was, perhaps, a just view of the matter. Our 
poor Debbie felt keenly the pangs of their 
approaching separation. She wrote but little 
during the winter—an occasional short note 
to her friends at St. Eustache, or to some 
other friend, informing them of Helen’s corldi- 
tion, from time to time. In March, 1858, she 
writes to the former from Fairfield : 

“ My heart would fain fly away from here, 
and be with those who seem, as it were, kin¬ 
dred spirits. I am ill at ease with those who 
understand me not. But, hush! I must not 
complain. I should not raise this voice against 
what seems to be the will of my Divine Sa¬ 
viour ! and I did not intend to—Heaven for¬ 
bid ! I only speak from the fullness of my 
heart, knowing to whom I am addressing my¬ 
self. You know, ‘ Out of the abundance of the 
heart the mouth speakethand so I write to 

ma Tante S-•. You compliment me in your 

last letter ; shall I tell you how ? You say 
you “ feel certain that God loves me so do 
I! My crosses, though small,.^are sufficient to 
prove to me that my Heavenly Father remem- 


190 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


bers me. The ‘ back is fitted for its burthen/ 
you know, and I am certain I shall have none 
too much. Since I have chosen Jesus for my 
guide, my love and my model, I cannot shrink 
from the Cross which He presents—from the 
path He has trod Himself; besides, is there 
so consoling a thought as that God “ lovetli 
whom He chasteneth?” This is my consola¬ 
tion and it is sufficient. I have been to St. 
Albans and seen our good Bishop — had a 
pleasant conversation with him which cheered 
me very much. His cheerfulness, liis smile 
of approbation, and his blessing, are enough 

to encourage any one. Saw Sister C-also 

while at St. Albans—felt like a child. The 
past came up, and in one moment I lived it all 
over again! I saw at a glance the enjoy¬ 
ments of the few months I had spent at the 
convent; I felt that I would give luorlds to 
lose sight forever of the weary scenes of life, 
and, leaving all, be consecrated to the only 
Object worthy of love ! These thoughts fill¬ 
ing my mind, and the warm welcome—the 
words of sympqj;hy—which she gave me, were 
too much ! I went from the house, and en- 



THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


191 


tering the church, wept until my heart was re¬ 
lieved in the presence of the Blessed Sacra¬ 
ment ! It was Thursday evening, a,nd some 
preparations were making for Benediction. 
The “ Tantum Ergo ” came over me with its 
usual calm influence, and soon my soul was 
soothed to peacefulness! I no more looked 
upon the darkness and affliction of my pres¬ 
ent hours, but, forgetting all, I could look to 
Heaven and return thanks for the blessings 
received—the great gift of Faith ! for which 
we can never be thankful enough. As the 
11 Compar sit Lauclatio” died away, and the 
silence rendered the scene more impressive 
still, I felt the load removed, and after the 
Benediction was given, all was over ! The 
tears fell fast, but they were tears of joy 
rather than sorrow. Was it not enough to 
make me feel submission to the Divine will ? 
to make me come and accept cheerfully the 
crosses and trials of this life ? Ah yes ! one 
hour in the presence of Him wc love—one 
Benediction, is sufficient to pay us for all our 
sufferings ! Oh ! ma Tante, I could speak of 
these things forever—could you not ? The 


192 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


love of Jesus for man !—Is it not a tale often 
fold, but never tiresome ? —always new, and 
each time more beautiful! ” 

To the same : “ Fairfield, April , 1858. * * 
Passed Holy Week with Helen at St. Albans, 
at Mr. Hoyt’s : enjoyed it very much, though 
Helen was able to go out but very little. She 
went to Mass on Holy Thursday, but not until 
after the Credo was sung, when Mr. Hoyt 
went and brought her over to the church. 
She received Holy Communion on Easter 
Sunday. I went with her about half-past 
seven o’ clock in the morning ; in fact she 
was hardly able, but would go , and said in so 
doing: “ It is my last Easter Communion, 
and perhaps, Debbie, the last time we shall go 
together /” Dear sister, she is fast going home 
and she is so lovely ! —every one speaks of it. 
She is the very same Helen as far as gayety 
is concerned, and so happy , so peaceful , so per¬ 
fectly resigned to the will of God! It has 
always been her favorite virtue, resignation; 
she says, whatever she may have done, she has 
always endeavored to say under all circum¬ 
stances, ‘ God’s will be done !’ and truly she 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


193 


is not less ready now'than ever to repeat it 
* * * She is fading gradually away, like some 
beautiful flower. From day to day I watch 
the change, and think truly she is too good 
for earth. She suffers more than many in 
consumption, but is always 'patient . * * *” I 
will now give extracts from some letters to 
her young friend at Burlington, who, has been 
introduced in the preceding pages. 

“Fairfield, April 1 Ith, 1858. My Dear 
Friend — * * * was very thankful for your 
kindness in writing ; and hope to hear from 
you still oftener. Your letter brought wel¬ 
come news. I want to know how you manage 
to gain your father's good will as you do. It 
seems so singular that he should allow your 
sisters to be baptized. I do not understand 
it. But our Divine Lord sees fit so to have 
it; and I cannot complain if He deals another 
way with us. I congratulate you, and your 
good sisters, and begin to think your prayers 
are more fervent than mine, and that I shall 
enjoy some of those blessed privileges when I 
am better myself. * * * * Our dear Helen 
is failing. * * * Truly she will gain \r leav- 

17 


194 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


ing this poor world ! I can hardly imagine 
she is to go so soon, but I must give her up. 
She has been my companion in joy and in sor¬ 
row. She has stood by me through the varied 
scenes of the past few years, and it is hard to 
think I must be separated from her, but God’s 
will be done ! He knows what is best and I 
cannot murmur. It will be but a few short 
days, and I trust, we shall be united where 
'partings are never known! My heart was 
sad this morning. I went to receive the Bread 
of Life, and she was not with me. Last Sun¬ 
day we both went, and she remarked, “ this is 
probably the last time we shall go together.” 
She said, she felt sensibly that she was failing. 
* * * She is happy, and I trust we shall be 
resigned. I will remember you in mv pray¬ 
ers, and the church in 0-, and in return 

you must pray for us here. * * *” 

To the same : “ Fairfield, May 2 d, 1858— 
Sunday Evening— My kind and loved Friend 
—While I write, you undoubtedly are present 
at the Evening Office of the church, and I trust 
your thoughts turn to me once in a while, and 
you breathe a silent prayer for my pirseve- 



TIIE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


195 


ranee. While you, my dear friend, are thus en¬ 
gaged, while the sounds of earthly music are 
bringing to your soul sweet thoughts of the 
celestial choirs, I am joining you in spirit, 
though absent in body. I have read my Ves¬ 
pers, and am quietly seated in my room writ¬ 
ing to you ; and as I proceed, the happy emo¬ 
tions of my heart seem to wish utterance. I 
am thinking of you and me —of the mysterious 
love of our God in calling us to such an in¬ 
heritance as He has. * * * * I have been 
listening to some conversation with regard to 
the great excitement throughout our country, 
termed a ‘ religious awakening and more 
than ever, it seems to me, I have returned 
thanks to our Heavenly Father for the gift of 
faith which He has bestowed upon me. These 
Protestant ‘ Revivals' have brought very forci¬ 
bly to my mind, the unspeakable blessings we 
have received in being rescued from such delu¬ 
sions, and admitted into the Church of Jesus 
Christ. And why us more than others ? This 
is a question I often ask. But we know not; 
we only know it was a grace given us of God’s 
own free mercy, and not from any merit of our 


19G 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


own ; for we hardly wished for the gift at 
first, but He drew us by His love and gave it 
to us almost without our asking it. * * * The 
Month of Mary is just commencing. ; I suppose 
there are services in the church in Burlington. 
I had the happiness of being in St. Albans to 
commence the month, and received Holy Com¬ 
munion there yesterday morning. * * * As 
for myself, I must be content with reading my 
meditations, and saying my prayers for this 
month pretty much alone. I suppose your 

sister S- is much more lonely in 0- 

than we are here, and when I am tempted to 
complain, she rises up to condemn me, and I 
am silent. Helen has been more comfortable 
for the past week. Perhaps it is nothing last¬ 
ing—I dare not hope too much. * * * I thank 
you for your words of consolation, and should 
know from your letter that you truly sympa¬ 
thize with us. * * Helen and Anna join in 
much love to you and your sisters. * * *” 
About three months later she wrote to her 
friend at St. Eustache : 

“ Fairfield, July 29^, 1858— * * * Since 
I wrote you last Helen has failed considerably. 




THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 19t 

She continues very cheerful all the time and 
seems to have no fear of death. She receives 
the sacraments every week now, that she is 
confined to her bed. Her stomach and bowels 
being equally diseased with her lungs, she has 
to suffer a great deal. Her constant cheerful¬ 
ness is a subject of surprise among our Pro¬ 
testant friends, and admiration to Catholics. 
In hours of severe pain she changes not her 
smile, and between moments of distress and 
anguish she will converse and laugh with those 
around her. She receives visits from all who 
ever knew her ; they often say to me on leav¬ 
ing, ‘ How can Helen be so happy, she must 
have something to sustain her!’ If they only 
knew! If they only knew ! To me it is a great 
consolation, you may be sure, this her peaceful 
fram'e of mind; for when I am looking forward 
to my oicn loneliness after her departure, I 
feel less sad to think that I shall have the 
memory of her submission to the will of our 
Divine Lord. (I had better say joy in it.) 
* * * The consciousness that I am doing the 
will of God is enough to make me content. I 
am sometimes lonely for St. Eustache, but'I 

17 * 


198 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


will not complain. I had a year there which 
I little deserved, and it will never be forgotten. 
The remembrance of the graces there received, 
and of the quiet happiness of my sojourn with 
you, will be among the bright thoughts of my 
future! * * *” 

In a letter to the Compiler of these Memoirs, 
written Aug. 1st, 1858, Debbie says : “ Helen 
is now very feeble—does not sit up at all. I 
can see that she fails from day to day. * * * 
You probably hear from her other ways, there¬ 
fore I will leave the rest until you see her, 
which we were so happy to hear, we might 
hope would be very soon. Helen and myself 
have looked for you and Mary to visit us, and 
longed to see you both, but we know also how 
little time you have to leave home, since your 
family is so large, and of course, have made all 

allowances. I heard from father R-of 

Bishop Young’s visit to the family of our faith - 
ful Libbie in Ohio. I should not be surprised 
if her friends should yet be united with her 
in the precious bonds of the Catholic faith. 
What a joy it would be for her, for us, for 
every Catholic heart the world over—another 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


199 


glorious conquest of Faith ! Be sure, I have 
not forgotten to pray for them ; and for her, 
that she may be allowed to go to the Ursuline 
Convent in Cleveland, as she desires. It would 
be such a happiness for the dear child! I 
must not write more to-night, for I have not 
the time. Poor Helen says, ‘ I shall probably 
never visit my friends again, they must come 
and see me.’ You little know how feeble she 
is, and how much attention she requires. She 
joins me in warmest love to you and Aunt 

L-, who is, I hope, improving in health. I 

have heard several times she was not well. 
Present our kindest regards to your good hus¬ 
band S-, Mary, and all your family. I re¬ 

main, yours very affectionately, Debbie Bar- 
low, Enfant de Marie.” 

In fulfillment of the expectation mentioned 
in this letter, we went, (Mary and I,) soon 
after its receipt, to pass a long summer day 
with them in Fairfield, starting very early 
in the morning. A short passage connected 
Helen’s room with the parlor into which we 
were conducted upon our entrance. Debbie 
met us with great joy. We stopped to make 


200 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


some inquiries about Helen before going to 
her, when to our surprise the door into that 
passage opened suddenly, and Helen was be¬ 
fore us ! I shall never forget how like an angel 
she looked as she stood in that doorway; her 
face all radiant w T ith joy, and the folds of her 
lone "white muslin robe floating about her! 
She had recognized our voices and could not 
wait for us to ask questions, but must see us 
at once. It was so like our own Helen! 
Neither can I ever forget the emotions that 
swelled my heart almost to bursting, as I fold¬ 
ed her in a long embrace, and then with lov¬ 
ing eludings, half playful, half assumed to hide 
the grief which must be suppressed, led her 
back to her bed. It was one of the few occa¬ 
sions upon which Debbie had known her to 
yield to the strong emotions of which we knew 
her impulsive nature was so susceptible. After 
the momentary “April shower” the old sun¬ 
shine glanced back upon us, as with one of her 
merriest laughs she said, “ It made a Jbaly of 
me to see you , aunty, to think of all the past, 
and to know it is all past—will return no 
more forever ! But sweeter than memories of 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


201 


pleasant hours is the will of my God!” “Yes,” 
clasping her thin white hands together, and 
smiling, while her uplifted eyes beamed with 
joy and love unutterable, “ to know that I 
shall so soon see Him as He is, and with the 
blessed saints adore Him in His glory, is worth 
more than all the joys a thousand worlds like 
this could give 1” She would not let me leave 
her that day. Even when she must rest a 
little while, her hand was clasped in mine. 
How reluctantly I left her at its close! and 
how well did I forbode that I should never see 
her face, or listen to that dear voice again ; 
even while I flattered myself and her, that I 
might be able to go to her again before her de¬ 
parture ! I seems to me as I recall it, that the 
face was never so radiantly beautiful, or the 
voice so softly sweet, as during those hours of 
my last interview with her ! A few weeks 
later Debbie wrote to St. Eustache : 

“Fairfield, Sept., 1858 .—My Dear Tante 

S -* * Letters from St. Eustache float 

like sunbeams across my path, shedding light 
where all seems dark around me ! They are 
always so full of consolations and cheering 



202 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


with all the rest, that I love them more and 
more, each one that comes. Our Divine Lord 
always gives something to console, even when 
He is afflicting His children the most, and 1 
sometimes think He has done so in my case, by 
sending me such friends as I have. I fear I 
am not thankful enough to God for those great 
gifts. Since I wrote you last, our dear Helen 
has continued to fail. One week ago, Father 
R-gave her Holy Communion and Ex¬ 

treme Unction. She has been more comforta¬ 
ble since. She was as calm through it as she 
has been through all. The day following, our 
good Bishop came to Fairfield to visit her. 
She seemed to enjoy his visit very much. He 
told me on leaving that he thought her 4 dispo¬ 
sitions the most remarkable he had ever 
known’—that he had never seen a person who 
had seemed, from the very first, so completely 
resigned to the will of God. And he is 
right. She has never said, 4 1 wish to live / or 
4 1 wish to die .’ She has always said it was a 
matter of perfect indifference to her, that she 
was in the hands of God, and He would do 
with her as He saw fit, and it would all he 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


203 


right. I have never heard her say that she 
wished to be released from her sufferings. 
The nearest approach to anything of the kind 
that I have heard, was a few days ago. She 
had suffered much for want of breath. I was 
sitting near her, and she finally said : 1 Oh, 
hoiv long do you think, Debbie, I shall carry 
about me, this poor body ? } I replied, ‘ Not 
long I think, dear!’ She looked at me, and 
such an expression of delight passed over her 
countenance as I have seldom seen, while she 
exclaimed, ‘ Won't I breathe easy, then ! and it 
will be a different air from this!” On the 
eve of the Assumption, I was leaving her 
room to go to my own, and as I went up to 
her bed to bid her good night, she said to me, 

‘ We shall wake to a glorious festival to-mor¬ 
row ; what if I should awake in a better 
world ?” I asked her if she would like to. 

‘ If it were the will of God, I would not ob¬ 
ject !’ was her reply. It is such a consolation 
to see her thus ! How can I ever be thankful 
enough to Almighty God in her behalf! * * 
A life of thanksgiving would be nothing ! She 
has given away all her things ; that is, all she 


204 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


valued. She has spoken of her burial and 
all those matters, so as to relieve me ; she says 
she speaks of them as she would of any other 
occurrences which were expected to take place. 
Her calm exterior in parting with friends, sur¬ 
prises me. * * * Her whole demeanor is calm 
and cheerful, not cold. If she sees a friend 
shed tears, she says, ‘ Are you not more coura¬ 
geous than that?’ and so she is through all. I 

pray God she may continue so. Father R- 

brings the Holy Communion to her every 
week. * * What is gain for her, will be loss 
for us ! Helen is a lovely girl, (if she is my 
sister) and too much so for earth. I complain 
not that Heaven has chosen her ! Anna is not 
yet baptized, and difficulties are abundant in 
the way. They seem to multiply around 

llGI* ^ ^ 

Thomas a Kempis says, “If thou hadst a 
pure conscience, thou wouldst not much fear 
death!” It was doubtless the profession of 
that treasure, joined to her peculiar natural 
cheerfulness, that enabled Helen to take the 
remarkably calm, even 'pleasant , view of her 
approaching dissolution, which has been the 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


205 


occasion of reproachful and censorious com¬ 
mentaries on the part of some who were ever 
watching these sweet sisters to detect some¬ 
thing to condemn in them. They little 
dreamed, indeed, that it was the depth and 
fervor of a piety whose warm gushings were 
not for their ears, which had thus overcome 
nature in this child of Faith i 
“St. Albans, Nov. 4 th, 1858 —My Dear 
Tante S —I have, this morning, to communi¬ 
cate to you the sad intelligence that our dear 
Helen is no more of this earth. She died last 
Friday morning, at a quarter before ten, and 
her funeral was attended at Fairfield, at 
eleven o’clock, on the Feast of All-Saints, 
(Nov. 1st,) after which her remains were 
brought to St. Albans for interment. I am 
sure you will desire to know all the particu¬ 
lars of her death, and I will try to give them 
in full. On the Thursday evening previous to 
Thursday, the last day of her life, she com¬ 
menced sinking rapidly. We called in a phy¬ 
sician, and she asked him how much longer he 
thought she had to live ? He told her but a 
short time, though probably for a day or two 

]9 





206 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


longer. From that moment her countenance 
assumed* the most joyous expression I ever saw 
it wear, and so continued until death. She 
remained pretty comfortable until Tuesday 
night, when about three o’clock in the night, 
or rather Wednesday morning, we thought her 
going. The physician was in the next room.* 
I stepped and spoke to him, asking if he 
thought there was any change ? After watch¬ 
ing her breathing for a short time, he told me 
he thought there was. She then requested 
the family to be called. Father and mother, 
and the other three sisters were called from 
their beds, and we all stood around (what we 
supposed) her dying couch ; she was supported 
by pillows, and sitting up. The scene was be¬ 
yond description. Father was bowed down 
by grief, and Mother worse — but Helen ! 
what shall I say of her ? A bright smile, a 

* The sisters were deeply attached to this physician, 
who also entertained a most affectionate regard for 
them. So strong was the interest they felt for his spirit¬ 
ual welfare, that, at their joint and earnest request, the 
Compiler presented his name to a pious confraternity, 
formed for the sole purpose of praying for the conversion 
of those who have manifested an interest, at any time, in 
our holy religion.— Compiler. 


TIIE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


207 


look almost of delight animated her features, 
as she addressed each one separately. She 
called Laura and Charlotte, and embraced 
them both ; then taking Anna by one hand, 
and father by the other, she said to the former, 
‘ You promise me, don’t you, Anna ?” Then 
turning her eyes towards father, she spoke in 
this way : ‘ Father, I am almost home ; my 
work is almost done ; would that I had lived 
better ! But God is merciful! These chil¬ 
dren must all come to this hour ; they must 
one day be where I am now, and I want them 
to have the same consolations that I have!’ 
Not one could reply. She then continued : ‘ I 
have loved you all; I have disobeyed but in 
one thing ! Is it right now, father ?’ He an¬ 
swered her, ‘ Ye s, my child, it is all right!’ 
She then bid them all good-bye, and turned to 
her physician. Doctor, have I much longer to 
stay V His reply was that he thought not. 
She then began to pray, and I, kneeling by her 
side, could occasionally catch some words from 
her lips though her voice was very indistinct. 
It was evident her mind was in Heaven, for 
twice she exclaimed, ‘ Call me to Heaven 1 




208 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


call me to Heaven P She spoke of nothing, 
only to ask. ‘ Are you near me, Debbie V 
Finally, she seemed to be disturbed by the 
weeping around her. ‘ Why do you regret ? 
You have reason to rejoice, father P said she. 
Then whispering to me, she added, ‘ Send 
them away, Debbie, they are drawing me away 
from Heaven P She continued in this way 
until day-break Wednesday morning, when, 
instead of dying, she revived ; but from that 
time until Thursday noon, she never swallowed 
but once. Of course, her sufferings were very 
great, but patience was not wanting on her 

part. Father R-came in to see her. He 

asked if there was anything more he could do 

for her. Her reply was, ‘No, Father R-, 

only to pray for meP It was the last time he 
ever saw her. He said he thought her the 
happiest soul he had ever attended. She lin¬ 
gered along through the day and night, until 
Friday morning, at the early hour of half-past 
three ; then she began to sink as before. Her 
physician, who never left the house, came into 
the room, and she asked him, ‘ Have I much 
longer to stay V He examined her pulse, and 




THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


209 


told her she had not. * * * The family were 
again called, and some friends who were in 
the house. About this time, her vision seemed 
to be becoming imperfect, and she said to the 
Doctor, 4 Is this room filled with ashes ?’ 4 Why 
no, my child F She requested to be moved 
near the window that she might breathe 
easier, and said again to the doctor, 4 Did you 
ever see such air ?’ 4 Helen/ said he, 4 you do 

not see perfectly ; there is nothing in the 
room.’ She then turned to me ; ‘I shall not 
breathe such air as this in Heaven, shall I, 
Debbie ?’ Then she asked again : ‘ Must I 
stay much longer, Doctor V Being answered 
4 No/ she said, 4 Good bye, all. I have said all 
1 have to say ; now stay by me, Debbie.’ By 
this time her voice had become almost inaudi¬ 
ble, but by being so near, I could distinguish 
parts of sentences. Her lips moved con¬ 
stantly, and the names of Jesus and Mary 
were repeatedly uttered. She asked me to 
say 4 We fly to thy Patronage.’ I did so, and 
also the Litany of the Blessed Virgin. She 
responded, 4 Pray for us/ until I was nearly 

through, and her voice was too faint to be 
is* 



210 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


heard ; but when the concluding prayer was 
finished, she said ‘ Amen !'* so that every per¬ 
son in the room heard her plainly. She held 
her crucifix as long as her hands were sirong 
enough, and times without number, pressed it 
lovingly to her lips. Being uncertain whether 
she could see or not, I held it before her a 
short time after she had dropped it. She 
fixed her eyes again upon it for a moment, and 
sweetly whispered, ‘ My crucified Lord ! 7 
These were the last words she uttered, while 
her mind remained clear. Soon the doctor 
perceived that an abscess had broken upon her 
lungs, and then her mind seemed to wander ; 
until nine o’clock, she continued to speak but 
very little. She seemed happy all the time, 
but partly unconscious of her situation. At a 
quarter past nine she began to suffer the most 
terrible agony, and from that time ceased to 
speak, except a few times we heard my name. 
At a quarter before ten, she breathed her last. 
Iler physician thought she had been uncon¬ 
scious of her sufferings for half an hour. I 
stood by her side until all was over. Anna 
and Laura were in the room, but none of 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


211 


the other friends. After death, her counte¬ 
nance was perfectly lovely. The same smile 
lingered on those pale lips, and every one who 
beheld her, pronounced her ‘ beautiful in death/ 
On the days while she lay in the house, more 
than six hundred people came to see her. The 
funeral was very large. Forty-six carriages, 
and a great many on foot, followed her re¬ 
mains from Fairfield to St. Albans, eight miles, 
notwithstanding the unfavorable weather and 
very bad roads. She died as she had lived, 
and you know how that was. Would that my 
last end might be like hers 1 I am certain 
that you will not forget to pray for the repose 
of her soul. * * * I am now at Mr. Hoyt’s 
passing a few days. * * *”•—And Helen was 
gone. We could never have thought that she 
would die so young—she who was so blithe, so 
sparkling ; so original in all sportful fancies. 
Helen, to apply the expressions of a much 
admired modern writer to her, “ with her 
piquant face, engaging prattle, and winning 
ways, wa« made to be a pet. L'o you know 
this place? No, you never saw it (perhaps). 
But you recognize the nature of these trees, 




212 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


this foliage! * * Stones like these are not un¬ 
familiar to you ; nor are these dim garlands of 
everlasting flowers. Here is the place—green 
sod, and a wdiite marble head-stone—Helen 
sleeps below! She lived through an April 
day ; much loved was she, much loving. She 
often, in her brief life, shed tears ; she had fre¬ 
quent sorrows ; she smiled between, gladden¬ 
ing whatever saw her!”—Her spirit was at¬ 
tuned to the harmony of Heaven. Her prac¬ 
tice, entire conformity to the will of her 
Maker! Long shall we miss thee, darling! 
Bequiescat in pace / 

“ F AIRFIELD, Dec. 1 sty 1858. M [I quote from 
a letter, written by Debbie to her friend at 
St. Eustuche.] “Anna has been preparing for 
baptism and required all my leisure hours. 
She had the happiness of being received into 
the church yesterday morning, on the anni¬ 
versary of my own baptism, so you perceive I 
had double cause for returning thanks to Al¬ 
mighty God. She obtained permission with¬ 
out difficulty, and now is within the Ark of 
Safety. I was her godmother ; she was bap¬ 
tized Anna Maria. Any one whom I have 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


213 


anything to do with must take the name of 
Mary. She will probably make her first Com¬ 
munion on Christmas and be confirmed about 
that time, as we exp'ect the Bishop then to 
spend a few days in Fairfield. She seems very 
happy, and desires your fervent prayers for 
her perseverance. * * *” Anna Barlow had at 
this time just entered her eighteenth year. 
She was not so tall as her elder sisters, but her 
form was very slight and her carriage singu¬ 
larly easy and graceful. Her clear blue eye3 
sparkled with intelligence and feeling, and her 
complexion was so purely transparent as to 
reveal but too plainly, to an experienced eye, 
a constitutional tendency to the fatal disease 
which claimed its victim so much sooner than 
could have been anticipated, that the convic¬ 
tion of its presence fell like a bewildering sur¬ 
prise upon us all. The remarkable energy 
and activity of her character and habits, pro¬ 
bably aided in concealing to a later period 
than is usual in such cases, the painful truth— 
always most unwillingly admitted by fond 
hearts—that she was destined to an early 



214 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


grave. During that winter, Debbie made a 
visit of considerable length in Burlington. 
While there, she wrote to her mother under 
date of Feb. 1st, 1859. In the course of the 
letter she speaks of being, “ troubled more or 
less with a pain in my side, from some cause 
or other. It troubled me before I left home, 
and has more, since I came awa} r . I hope, 
however, it will leave me before long.”—Some 
months after Helen's death, Mr. Barlow bought 
a beautiful place at St. Albans, where his chief 
business had been located for more than a 
year previous, and his family began to make 
arrangements for their removal. In conse¬ 
quence of a very thorough course of repairs 
upon the place, and the time and attention re¬ 
quisite to provide and prepare the new furni¬ 
ture for so large a mansion, that removal did 
not take place, however, until past the mid¬ 
summer of 1859. The correspondence be¬ 
tween Debbie and the young friend, (from her 
letters to whom I have previously given some 
extracts,) had been interrupted for some time 
by circumstances on both sides unfavorable to 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


215 


its continuance. It was resumed in March, 
1859. I extract a part of a letter from Deb¬ 
bie to that-friend, on the 25th of March. 

“ My Dear -: I was somewhat surprised 

to receive a letter from you a few evenings 
since, and equally pleased. I had thought 
many times that I would write to you, but 
waited, hoping to have some intelligence from 
you first. I am sorry now that I did not, but 
you will pardon me, I am sure. Yes! our 
beloved Helen is no more of this earth ! * * 
Her death was that of a saint. It was more 
happy, more glorious, than I can tell you. 
Her sufferings were very great for some time 
before her departure. * * From Monday until 
the morning she died, which was Friday , I 
never left her side. Of the sweet peace, the 
almost ecstatic joy, which beamed in her coun¬ 
tenance for that length of time, I will say but 
little; ivords are inadequate for the task. She 
could speak most of the time, and one might 
easily have imagined that her soul was already 
experiencing a foretaste of Heaven, could they 
have heard all that passed from those loved 
lips. And what must have been going on in 





*216 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS 


that heart 1 I know from tlie expression of 
delight, of rapture, which occasionally over¬ 
spread her face, when all was silent about, 
that she was holding communion with the 
blessed in Heaven. I cannot tell you all she 
said; I cannot tell you here of the patient re¬ 
signation witlu which she received her suffer¬ 
ings, nor of the longing desire, the constant 
anxiety, with which she looked forward to the 
moment when she should “ sin no more !” No, 
I cannot tell you all now, but I hope to see 
you soon, and then I can and will. Suffice to 
say, she died on Friday, the day upon which 
she always wished to leave this weary world, 
full of hope, without one regret for all she left 
behind, without one sigh, one tear, or one look 
of sorrow, while others wept around her, hour 
after hour. She left not one stain upon her 
Christian character, and never, to my know¬ 
ledge, did she commit one act which brought 
a reproach upon the holy faith she professed. 
She has died ‘ the death of the just/ and well 
might our wish be that ours might be like 
unto it. The burial was on the Feast of All 
Saints, one of her favorite festivals . The 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


217 


month of November had just commenced, as 
you see, and that being the month in which so 
much is done for the souls in purgatory, what 
a lovely time to die! Could she have chosen a 
better? And now, for myself—Helen is gone! 

I doubt her need of the prayers and suffrages 
of the faithful; still the Church commands us 
to pray for the departed, but pray for me dear 
—. Our Divine Lord has bestowed so many 
graces upon me, that I fear lest I prove un¬ 
grateful ; He has given me sometimes a little 
share in His Cross, but not enough yet. There 
are others yet in store for me, and I regret it 
not. Pray that I may have courage and pa¬ 
tience ! I am very happy this wdnter, and 
why should I not be ? Another, near and 
dear to me, has been received into our Holy 
Church! Our Divine Saviour gives me too 
many consolations. I know you rejoice with 
me, and pray for the others. We are about 
leaving Fairfield. In May we expect to go to 
St. Albans to reside. " x * * *” 

To the same : “ April 2ktli — * * * Of 
course you know that Lent is over. Well, 
our church in Fairfield had to be decorated for 



218 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


Easter, and I have been very much engaged 
preparing wreaths and flowers for the Altar. 
We have had services every day through Holy 
Week, and of course I have not had many 
moments to spare. Thursday night, I had the 
happiness of spending the hours from nine un¬ 
til twelve before the Blessed Sacrament, some¬ 
thing which I do every year, if possible. I 
thought I was going to be disappointed this 
time, as we feared we could not have a Reposi¬ 
tory ,, but we did, and I had that great privi¬ 
lege. I received Holy Communion on Holy 
Thursday. You were not forgotten. Easter 
has come, and we must rejoice, and we can do 
so together. The day is a very cloudy dark 
one here, not such as it seems to me the feast 
of our Lord’s Resurrection should be, but the 
‘ Alleluias’ made it seem a little more bright. 
I love Easter ! There is something which 
takes all sadness from my heart, in the appear¬ 
ance of everything on this day. I do not 
wonder at the simplicity of their faith, who 
see the sun dance on Easter Sunday morning. 
A year ago to-day Helen received Commu¬ 
nion for the last time in church, and I with 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


219 


lier. This makes me a little sad in spite of 
myself, but why should I be ? Her Easter, 
this year, is a far happier one, far more glori¬ 
ous, than earth can ever make it. She loved 
the glorious mysteries of our Lord’s life, and 
through Passion time she was ever looking 
forward to His Resurrection, and then still 
fonvard to Ilis Ascension. * * *’ 7 Debbie 
was pleased with the choice of their future 
home, as the residence her father had pur¬ 
chased was that of her friends, Mr. and Mrs. 
Hoyt, (who removed to Burlington to reside 
soon after the sale of their house,) where she 
and Helen had passed so many happy days to¬ 
gether. Yet she experienced deep regrets 
upon leaving Fairfield, the home of her child¬ 
hood. She had many friends there, to whom 
she was warmly attached, even among those 
whose affection for her and her sister had 
been chilled by their submission to the Catho¬ 
lic faith. Her spirit, always too generous to 
stoop to emotions of ill-will, jealousy or envy, 
was, when brought under the influence of that 
faith, too thoroughly imbued with charity and 
humility to reciprocate the coldness she too 




220 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


often met from others, or to utter even to her 
most intimate friends any expressions which 
(if they heard them,) could wound the feelings 
of those who so carelessly wounded her own. 
Beyond a gentle and kind allusion to her re¬ 
gret for such estrangements, she never went. 
Our spirited Helen, indeed, would sometimes 
toss her head and make some indignant or 
contemptuous remark, but the next moment 
she would take it all back and condemn her¬ 
self with severe humility for her momentary 
departure from charity. How loving and 
how sweet were the approving smiles with 
which her elder sister rewarded those little 
conquests which she thus achieved over her 
impetuous nature, they who have seen them 
much together will vividly remember, and 
will sympathize with the emotions which fill 
my eyes with tears as I record these reminis¬ 
cences. Then there was the humble church of 
Fairfield, within whose sacred walls many of 
her fondest associations were garnered. There 
she had often knelt with the dear departed to 
partake of the Bread of Angels. There they 
had gone together to offer their humble adora* 


THE YOUNG ^CONVERTS. 221 

tions before Jesus in His Sacrament of Love. 
And there, when that sister’s faith was changed 
to right, and her hopes closed in full fruition, 
she had sought daily, for many months, the 
consolations which could be found only in 
communion with her Saviour, before His holy 
Altar. - Its pastor had also been the director 
and guide of her pure soul, as well as those of 
her sisters on their heavenward journey, since 
the day of their baptism. She now felt more 
than ever her need of those holy counsels 
which had so aided in supporting her beloved 
Helen through the “ valley of the shadow of 
death,” and from which she had herself also 
derived sustaining aid to strengthen her af¬ 
flicted spirit, under the loneliness of the sepa¬ 
ration from that sister. The thought of being 
deprived of these, as she must be in a great 
measure after their removal to St. Albans, was 
very painful to her. Anna’s health was be¬ 
ginning to decline, and she felt that her own 
also was failing. That :t pain in her side,” men¬ 
tioned in her letter to her mother in February, 
was, alas! never to “leave” her, as she hoped, 
The Anal arrangements for removing were 



222 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


made, therefore, under circumstances so - un¬ 
promising, that it required all the fortitude of 
spirits habituated to conformity with the will 
of God, to support them under the trial. 

In the early part of July, Debbie again vis¬ 
ited Montreal, for the purpose of making a 
spiritual retreat in her dear convent home, to 
decide the question as to her vocation to the 
life of a religious. That question was then de¬ 
cided affirmatively. After her return from 
Canada, and the removal of the family to St. 
Albans, the health of the two sisters declined 
so rapidly that it was judged best to take 
them to the sea-shore, to try the effect of sea¬ 
bathing. It proved beneficial to Anna, but 
Debbie could not breathe the air from the 
ocean with any comfort; it produced the most 
distressing cough and hoarseness, with great 
aggravation of the pain in her side, which 
hastened her return home. Soon after she 
came back she visited me. I was about to go 
to New York, and she requested me to see the 
Superior of the Sisters of Mercy, (with whom I 
became acquainted some years before,) and as¬ 
certain the conditions of entrance into the 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


223 


Order and Convent. Her earnest yet half- 
abashed manner when she made the request, 
the glowing fervor with which she assured 
me that her desire to consecrate her young 
life to God, was not a mere sentiment or tran¬ 
sient feeling, but the settled aim and sum 
of her aspirations, are before me now. It 
was early in October. By a higher vocation 
was her desire consummated on the ninth of 
April following, when our sweet sister “ fell 
asleep in Jesus!” When I was at New York, 
Mother Agnes was alarmingly ill, and I could 
not perform my errand. Before I saw Debbie 
again, she had been attacked with severe 
hemorrhage of the lungs, and when I told her 
of my non-fulfillment of her commission she 
said serenely, “ It is just as well so.” She had 
meantime, however, obtained the desired in¬ 
formation from another source, but knew she 
could never avail herself of it. While I was 
gone to New York she wrote to St. Eustache. 

“ St. Albans, October 12th, 1859.”—[After 
speaking of their excursion to the sea-shore, 
its effects upon them both, her own improve¬ 
ment after her return home, and that Anna 




224 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


had now returned much benefited by sea¬ 
bathing, she adds :] “ I ride about constantly, 
as they think exercise in the open air may re¬ 
lieve me. I think I may get better, but pro¬ 
babilities are against me. I say against me—I 
mean my recovery. Not that I fear death as 
a misfortune, far from it! Though it will be 
a disappointment not to be able to consecrate 
myself body and soul to the service of God in 
this life, still His will be done ! ‘ Whether 
in life or in death we are the Lord’s/ It will 
be all the same. * * * Our home is elegant— 
furnished by the kind solicitude of my father, 
with every comfort and luxury. But there is 
nothing in worldly advantages and delights, 
that can satisfy the cravings of the immortal 
soul. * *” She writes again to the same 
friend, October 26 th, in cheerful submission to 
the decision which had now been made known 
to her by the hemorrhage of the lungs before 
alluded to, and from which she was just so far 
recovered as to be able to write. She speaks 
of it as a painful surprise to her friends, but 
by no means unexpected by herself; that she 
had been confident for some time that her 


the Young converts. 


225 


lungs were diseased, and adds : “ Anna is also 
quite sick just now—a severe cold at first, 
followed by derangement of the stomach and 
bowels and extreme debility. I insisted laugh¬ 
ingly that she was sick to escape waiting upon 
me —she having been taken down the day 
after my sudden attack. I feel very lonely 
without the privileges of attending Mass and 
visiting the Blessed Sacrament. 7 ’ * * “ Octo¬ 
ber 29 th —A year ago to-day Helen died ! 
The time seems so short that I can hardly 
realize it. * * I have just come home from 
Mass which was offered for her to-day, and am 
seated in my room alone. I have taken my 
pen that my reflections may not be too sad. 
I shall not be long behind her, I think, and 
the thought is not unpleasant. If I were only 
like her, so well prepared, I should see no 
reason for regret; as it is, I have only to en¬ 
deavor to put myself in readiness for that hour. 
Consumption gives time enough in which to 
prepare to die—another of God’s mercies I 
My friends in Burlington are very kind to 


me. 



226 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


To the same : “St. Albans, Nov. 24 th. * * 
* *” My own health continues about the 
same. Anna is worse than I am now. I am 
fearful she is not going to be any better either. 
We are very anxious about her, and our phy¬ 
sicians also. She does not leave her room, 
and having a very delicate constitution, the 
disease she has had has nearly proved fatal. 
We now fear quick consumption. The Doc¬ 
tors say there must be a change soon or she 
will not be with us long. I have almost for¬ 
gotten my own troubles in my anxiety for the 
poor child. She is good and patient as you 
ever saw any one. I am not strong enough 
to do for her as I did for Helen ; in fact, I 
am but just able to wait on myself. * * * * 
My heart, however, is very light, sickness does 
not make me sad. I shoud pity myself if it 
did ! * * *” She was prevented from finish¬ 
ing this letter for some days, and then adds : 
“ Anna continues about the same. My Uncle 
Pierce is now here. He thinks her case ap¬ 
pears almost hopeless. So continue our trials ; 
I shall probably live to see her die. also. 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


227 


4 Only going a little before/ as our beloved 
Helen said, a few days before her death. * * 
* The real pain of sickness consists in our pri¬ 
vations in holy things. No Mass! Commu¬ 
nions but seldom. No visits to the Blessed 
Sacrament. * * * *” About this time Mr. 
Hoyt’s two oldest daughters came to St. Al¬ 
bans for a visit of a few days, a portion of 
which they passed in their former home with 
Debbie’s younger sisters. She expected to ac¬ 
company them when they returned to Burling¬ 
ton. Anna became suddenly worse and she 
could not go. She wrote by them to Mrs. 
Hoyt. 

pj l St. Albans, Nov. 30th, 1859 —My Dear 

Mrs. Hoyt —A- and M- are leaving 

for home to-day, and I intended, when they 
came, to have gone with them ; but it has been 
ordered otherwise. Probably you heard from 
Mrs. Hunt of Anna’s low condition. Since 
Sunday she has seemed to fail rapidly, and we 
have now little or no grounds for hoping she 
will ever be any better. Her symptoms are 
all bad—not one in her favor. Her limbs are 
badly swollen, and, in fact, her body seems to 




228 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


be most of the time. Monday afternoon we 
thought it safest and best for her to receive 

the last sacraments, as Father C-was 

leaving for his missions, and would be absent 
until Saturday. We had been told by her 
physicians that, should we see certain symp¬ 
toms, we might be alarmed, and look for a 
speedy termination of all her troubles. They 
appeared, for the first time, Monday morning. 
I suppose, if there is no change, she can last 
but a short time. She is perfectly conscious 
of her situation, and as cheerful as ever our 
dear Helen was ; though she did not expect so 
soon to be called. When I told her the opinion 
which had been expressed with regard to her, 
the intelligence was received without a sign of 
emotion. She answered me thus : 1 1 did not 
expect it so soon ; but it is all the same.’ It 
is rather sudden to us all, though her health 
has been poor for a good while. It seems to 
our father and mother that they are losing 
their family as soon as the Catholic Church 
receives them, and the former often expresses 
himself to that effect. He cannot see these 
afflictions in any other light. Anna had mis- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


229 


erable health long ago—four years to-day, you 
may remember, I do not forget it certainly. 1 
have reason to be cheerful this morning, even 
in a sad house. It is the anniversary of my 
baptism, and Anna's too. It is just a year 
since she was received into the Church. We 
are neither of us too down-hearted to-day, I 
assure you, though somewhat disappointed in 
our plans. We had intended to spend the feast 
rather differently. Do not forget to pray for 
us. * * * I would like to see you so much. 

A-will tell you all. We were delighted 

. to see the girls, and hope they have enjoyed 
themselves. They have been here but little— 
I wish they had been more, for it seemed such a 
pleasure to Anna. She is able to see all her 
friends. * * *” Her next letter to her be¬ 
loved friend at St. Eustache was written with 
a pencil. She was unable to hold a pen. 

“St. Albans, Jan. 41/*, 1889 —Wednesday 
morning . * * * You think strange, I am sure, 
that I have been so long without writing to 
you ; but I have not been able, and am not 
now. I was very weak when I received your 
last letter, and in a few days I went to Bur- 





230 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


lington. I remained three weeks at Mr. Hoyt’s. 
I received every care and attention that could 
be given to any one, but continued to fail every 
day. I came home last week, and am now so 
feeble as hardly to leave my room at all. 1 
have been trying every day to write you a few 
lines with a pencil, but could not ; my strength 
was not sufficient. I will not write long to¬ 
day. As I am writing of myself, I will tell 
you just how I am, and it may make the bur¬ 
then of my letter. I do not suffer much from 
acute pain, but a great deal from impeded 
breath, severe coughing, and extreme weak¬ 
ness. They say my face does not change much ; 
but my voice you would not know. I can 
hardly speak above a whisper. You see I am 
really wearing away, slowly , perhaps, but sure¬ 
ly. 1 know your next question will be, £ And 
how do you feel about it ?’ I enjoy myself 

well, my dear Tante S-, and sometimes I 

think I am happier than ever before. Of 
course, the thoughts of death bring with them 
many, very many serious reflections; but my 
hope is still alive. I have the sacraments 
within my reach and all that the Church can 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


231 


give me, and what more can I ask ? Though 
sometimes I wish for other things, I have no 
reason to complain. Anna is in a room not 
far from me, and she, I think, is gradually 
losing her hold upon life. She seems drooping 
like a flower, without any apparent suffering, 
and she says she hardly knows what is causing 
her to fail. We enjoy ourselves, I can assure 
you, the little time they leave us together. 
She is in the best of spirits all the time, and 
has been through all her illness. She says she 
has been praying for six months for resigna¬ 
tion to bear my departure, but now she thinks 
the prospect is that she shall die first. It is 

hard to tell. I saw Sister C-almost 

every day while I was in Burlington, and ex¬ 
pect to see her here on Friday. I was able to 
go to the convent but twice, and when I did, 
it was so hard to leave that I had better not 
have gone. Wednesday Evening —I add a 
few lines this evening. Since writing the 

above, Father R-has made us quite a long 

call. It is my twenty-second birthday. I 
shall hardly see another. You must pray hard 
for me, and request the nuns to do the same. 








232 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


Again she writes to the same person : 

“Jan. 19 th, 1860. * * I am thankful I can 
still write you myself, instead of having some 
one else to do it for me. You will excuse its 
being written with a pencil, I know, and be 
glad with me that the letter is my own 
writing. Your letter, with its kind messages 
and words of love, has been received and read 
with the greatest pleasure. * * * Continue, I 
beg of you, to pray for my perseverance, and 
in asking for myself, of course I include Anna. 
We continue about the same as when I wrote 
you last, some days worse, and others again 
quite comfortable. Anna, I think, will not 
last long ; her strength fails rapidly. I never 
saw any one in better spirits. I spent an hour 
in her room last evening, and she told me how 
fast her strength was going, and how short a 
time she thought she would live, with such a 
cheerful countenance, that I thought to myself 
it was no matter how soon she died. I do not 
see so much of Anna as I could wish, for se¬ 
veral reasons. One is, I cannot bear the high 
temperature at which her room has to be kept, 
and another, the Doctors say there is too much 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


233 


sympathy between us to make it as well for us 
to be together ; these, with other reasons, keep 
us a good deal separate. You speak, my dear 
Tante, in your letter, of the benefit of suffer¬ 
ings when united with those of our Divine 
Lord. Truly this is one of my greatest con¬ 
solations, to know that not one pain or one 
sigh is lost or forgotten ! You know our Di¬ 
vine Saviour always appeared more lovely to 
me in His Passion than elsewhere, and it 
would be strange now if I were not willing to 
suffer what He sends me through His love. It 
is sometimes hard. One is about tempted to 
wish the pain and anguish away, but again, I 
find it all pleasant and easy. Last night I 
was awake nearly the whole night with my 
cough and fever ; but I enjoyed it as I w'ould 
enjoy rest. Those nights I often have, are the 
times when I look over the past, examine the 
present, and look forward to the future ! In 
thinking of the past the mercies of God formed 
a great part of my thoughts last evening, and 
to-day the same thought is uppermost in my 
mind. I do not know that I have ever real¬ 
ized so fully as now, how great and how numer - 
20 * 



234 


TOE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


ous those mercies have been ! If I do not find 
that they have. been too dreadfully misused 
and abused, this is all 1 fear ; but again, 1 His 
mercy endureth forever * * * We received 
Holy Communion together yesterday morning, 
Anna and myself. I never expect to go out 
again ; I thought I should for a while but the 
doctor tells me he does not think I will live 

through the spring months. Tell Sister J- 

that I shall hardly see her in May as I prom¬ 
ised, if I were well, but that I hope and pray 
that the Month devoted to our sweet Mother 
will not pass without seeing her consecrated 
to her service forever. She must pray for me. 
Tell her to ask the Blessed Virgin to obtain 
for me all the graces I so mucli need now. 

Tell ma Tante, Sr. B-, that the picture she 

shall surely have. I have loved it much for 
itself, and much for the giver’s sake, and would 
rather she should have it than another. As 
for you, my dearest Tante, I do not know wha 
to send you. Can you not mention something 
you would like yourself? I am not particu¬ 
larly attached to anything I have that I know 
of. My crucifix, my books, my rosaries, are 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


235 


all I have that you would value. Any of them 
I will send you. Now my dear Sr. —-—, I 
must close this letter; may be it is the last I 
shall ever write to yon, perhaps not; but if it 
should be, remember that the heart grows 
wanner and fonder as life [wanes and tocars 
away ; that if ever I have felt a deep affection 
for you and for all at the Congregation, it is 
noiVj and I will cherish it always. Pray for 
me. * * *” 

It was indeed the last letter she ever wrote 
to that dearly beloved friend. Six days later 
she addressed a little note to the young friend 
and correspondent in the South part of the 
State (before alluded to), to whom she had 
not written for some months. It was her last 
effort of the kind, and the faltering, unequal 
characters in her handwriting, (usually as cor¬ 
rect, distinct and beautiful in its execution 
under all circumstances, as any I have ever 
seen,) give evidence of the difficulty with which 
it was performed. 

“St. Albans. Jan. 2 5th, 1858 —Dear -; 

You may bo surprised to receive a letter from 




236 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


me, but I felt that on the strength of our 
former correspondence, I ought to let you know 
some facts which may surprise you very much, 
unless you have already heard through some 
other source. Our dear Anna is just going 
with quick consumption. We look for her 
death at any time. She is confined to her bed, 
and has been to her room, for three months. 
She is showing in her last days, what the 
Catholic religion can do, in preparing a soul 
for what awaits us all. I cannot add good 
news even here from myself . You may be 
more surprised when I tell you, that I too am 
confined to my room with the same disease, 
only that it seems to make slower progress 
than Anna’s has. My cough has been bad 
since last May, and in October I had an attack 
of spitting blood, and another in November. 
I have not been down stairs since New Year’s 
day. It is very hard for me to write, so you 
must excuse the style, and the short letter. I 
thought you would like to hear and I have 
managed to scribble a few lines. I am in the 
best of spirits, and am only waiting until our 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


23 T 


dear Lord comes to take me away. Pray for 
us! My love to your sisters. * * Anna sends 
much love. * * Your true friend, Debbie.” 

Though Debbie did not sink very rapidly, 
yet were her sufferings much more severe than 
is usual in consumption. She had during the 
remainder of her life frequent paroxysms of 
agonizing distress. The same week that the 
foregoing letter was written, I saw the sisters 
together for the last time. Upon entering 
Anna’s room I expressed my agreeable sur¬ 
prise to find them both there! Debbie said 
she was there by special invitation. “ Yes,” 
said Anna, “ I announced to her yesterday that 
if she would be very good she should dine with 
me to-day ; so this morning I sent my compli¬ 
ments requesting the pleasure of her company 
at my house to dinner.” Just at that moment 
their mother came in with a servant carrying 
the salver upon which was their dinner. Draw¬ 
ing the table to the side of Anna’s bed, Debbie 
was drawn in her chair to it, while her mother 
arranged the covers upon it, and the delicacies 
which she had prepared with her own hands, 
hoping to tempt their appetites. The whole 



238 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


scene in that sick room, it may be readily im¬ 
agined, was most affecting, but nothing went 
to my heart like the tender earnestness with 
which that mother urged them to partake of 
what she had taken so much pains to cook and 
season, as they “ used to like it ;” and the ex¬ 
pression of disappointed sadness, with which 
she watched their ineffectual efforts to gratify 
her by complying with her request. It brought 
back corresponding experiences of my own, in 
“ the days of the years gone by,” so forcibly, 
that I could hardly keep a cheerful counten¬ 
ance. How many mothers will sympathize 
from their hearts with those emotions! Anna 
inquired with affectionate interest after all her 
young friends whom I knew, and added, “ Tell 
Mary,” (who was absent at school,) “ that she 
must write me one of her own cheerful funny 
letters, such as she always has;” (they had been 
correspondents for some time, and the artless 
originality of Anna’s letter had furnished us 
with much amusement,) “ she need not feel as 
if she must be gloomy and sad because I am 
soon going away !” “ She does not feel so on 

your account, by any means, my child,” I re- 



THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


239 


plied: “ her grief, like that of all your friends, 
is selfish. We think of what ive are to lose, 
more than of what you will gain !” She spoke 
with earnest simplicity of her feelings as death 
was approaching ; of the pleasure she antici¬ 
pated in meeting her beloved sister, and seemed 
to have an impression that Helen would be 
permitted to conduct her soul as it left this 
world, and to unfold before it the mysteries of 
another, as she and Debbie had instructed her 
here, in those of the Kingdom of Christ upon 
earth. The sufferings of her last sickness were 
not very severe, except from daily increasing 
faintness and difficulty of breathing, when she 
was placed in any position that would seem to 
be easy. This increased to such a degree that 
for many days before her departure, it was im¬ 
possible for her to breathe with any support 
whatever around her ; she could not even per¬ 
mit a hand to be applied to uphold her weary 
head, but sat perfectly erect, unsupported by 
pillows or other appliances until exhausted na¬ 
ture yielded. The only utterance like a com¬ 
plaint that ever passed her lips was the faint 
expression, “ I am so tired!” and then she would 



240 


' THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


smile sweetly and reprove in herself, what she 
called her “impatience.” 

On Friday afternoon previous to her death. 
Debbie was carried into her room for the last 
time. Their first eager questions of each 
other were to ascertain their mutual feelings, 
now that death was so near at hand. Having 
conversed together more than an hour and as¬ 
sured themselves that all was peace in that 
respect, Debbie proposed that they should re¬ 
cite their beads together once again, which 
they did with such a degree of fervor as be¬ 
fitted the time and the circumstances, and with 
the serenity and recollection of spirits linger¬ 
ing upon the confines of time, perfectly pre¬ 
pared to pass them at any moment into eter¬ 
nity. It was one of the most impressive 
scenes that was ever presented in a chamber 
of death, and overpowering in its beautiful 
pathos to all who witnessed it. At the close 
of the holy exercise, they smilingly and lov¬ 
ingly kissed, and parted. As the affectionate 
“Good bye!” was exchanged, Debbie remarked, 
“We shall meet again so soon, dearest, that wo 
sti.ll hardly know we have separated at alll” 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


241 


and was carried back to her room. A cheerful, 
tearless parting between two angelic spirits 
—the tearful sighs of poor humanity floating 
unnoticed around them the while ! From Sa¬ 
turday morning, the tenth ol March, at nine 
o’clock, when a change took place, which she 
supposed was the final one, until she ceased to 
breathe, twenty-four hours later, an expression 
of glowing rapture settled upon Anna’s face, 
which never left it, and was the most perfect 
illustration of the idea conveyed in the term 
“ Seraphic ” of anything I have ever beheld. 
The last change , when it really came, was but 
momentary, but perfectly understood by her. 
Casting a parting look of smiling love for a 
moment upon each person in the room, she 
bowed her head, and was gone 1 Not the 
slightest struggle, not even the quiver of a 
muscle betrayed the moment when that pure 
spirit took its flight! And Anna was with 
Helen 1 How we longed to look “ beyond the 
veil” and witness that meeting! It seemed 
as if Debbie did see it, for her spirit was too 
much absorbed in its joys to be shaded by one 

regret. Though Anna’s plans for this world 
21 



242 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


■were so arranged as to open every prospect of 
happiness to her future which her young heart 
could desire, yet she accepted the call to an¬ 
other in the same spirit of joyous resignation 
with which her sisters received it; the only 
cloud that obscured its brightness for a mo¬ 
ment being the thought, that the destiny of 
another would be overshadowed by her early 
departure. The funeral services were per¬ 
formed by the Pastor of St. Albans. Our 
Right Rev. Bishop went the day before to 
that place, intending to officiate upon the occa¬ 
sion, but was taken very ill the previous night, 
and was consequently unable to fulfill that in¬ 
tention. 

The last weeks of Debbie’s life were at¬ 
tended by severe and constantly increasing 
suffering. She could not lie down at alh 
or even recline in her chair. Her head was 
bowed down, (as if to assimilate her entirely 
to her Divine Master in every circumstance of 
His Passion and Death, which had so long 
formed the dearest theme of all her medita¬ 
tions and devotions,) and drawn by contrac¬ 
tion of the muscles towards the left side, until 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


243 ' 


her face could be seen only by kneeling very 
low at her right side, and looking up into it! 
Her voice was so entirely gone that her words 
were uttered in a faint whisper. But those 
“ Angel whisperings/! will they ever be forgot¬ 
ten by those who listened to them ? Early in 
Holy Week it was thought she was dying. 
At her request the fact was communicated to 

her beloved Tante, Sr.-, now at Montreal. 

Many messages of love went with it, from her 
to that “ best friend who,” to use her own lan¬ 
guage, “loved my soul because Jesus Christ 
died to save it; who cared for it, prayed for 
it, before I had learned to care for it myself 
or appreciate its value.” She also sent lov¬ 
ing messages to the whole community, request¬ 
ing their prayers for the soul of their depart¬ 
ing child, and expressing the joy it would 
have given her to see her dear Tante once 
again. The Mother Superior immediately tele¬ 
graphed to know if it would be any comfort 

to her to have Sr.-come to her ? A reply 

in the affirmative was despatched, and in less 
than an hour after its receipt, that Sister, ac¬ 
companied by another, was on her way to St. 





244 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


Albans, to attend the last hours of her darling- 
child ; a blessing as unexpected by Debbie as 
it was unprecedented, none of the Order hav¬ 
ing ever left the Convent before upon such an 
errand, their vocation being simply to teach. 
Debbie could not express her gratitude for 
the favor. It was an unspeakable comfort to¬ 
iler to see her dear Tante, who was entirely 
overcome to find her child thus, suffering so- 
much, more than she had expected! She* 
knelt by her side and wept bitterly, while in 
faint whispers, such expressions as these were 
breathed into her ear, “ Is it possible my own 
eyes see once again in this world my sweet 

Tante Sr.-,* mon cinge, mon oiseau gris? n 

(a name she had given her, in the happy days 
at St. Eustache, because her complexion was 
slightly freckled ,) and many other terms of 
endearment, which I cannot now recall, by 
which it had been her custom to address her 
beloved friend. The Sisters had permission 
to stay two days, at the close of which, on 
Good Friday morning, they reluctantly left her r 
under the strong impression that she would 


My Angel! my Gray-bird I 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


245 


not live through that day'. Soon after they 
left, a singular change, unusual in consumption, 
took place. Dropsical symptoms supervened, 
(at the period when under ordinary circum¬ 
stances dissolution would have closed her suf¬ 
ferings,) attended of course with distressing 
swelling of the limbs and body, and causing a 
partial diversion of the disease from the lungs, 
which arrested its progress there, without re¬ 
lieving the suffocating pressure upon them. 
She lingered thus, in those fearful pangs which 
usually belong only to the last hour, until 
her departure on the morning of Easter Mon¬ 
day, April ninth, at seven o’clock. I was so 
favored as to be with her from the afternoon 
of Good Friday, until her dear form was pre¬ 
pared for its last resting place. Though her 
mind wavered slightly at intervals, yet she 
was at any time, (save in one instance to be 
mentioned hereafter,) easily drawn to under¬ 
stand clearly to the very last, every circum¬ 
stance of her own situation and of everything 
around her. She frequently desired me to 
read the prayers for the departing, the Litany 
of the Blessed Virgin, portions of psalms, and 




246 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


sucli other devotions from time to time, as her 
strength would permit her to join in—which 
she did, in the midst of her agonies, with the 
most edifying fervor. Not the least interest¬ 
ing part of a scene which though harrowing 
as to its anguish, was still glorious in its tri¬ 
umphs, was the course her pure thoughts took, 
even in their wanderings. She was ever in 
some holy place, before the altars she loved so 
well, pouring forth her fervent prayers ; or in 
the company of the Reverend Clergy, or pious 
nuns, offering them fruits and refreshments ; 
sometimes she was busy in preparing clothing 
for the poor, ministering to their wants, and 
expressing the deepest love for them and sym¬ 
pathy in their sufferings. Her perfect con¬ 
formity to the will of God remained serenely 
firm to her last breath, and she repeatedly 
called upon us to pray, not that she might 
have one pain less, not for the slightest dimi¬ 
nution of her anguish, but, “ 0, for a great 
deal more patience !” We could not conceive 
how more could be added to a patience al¬ 
ready so perfect! She was constantly kissing 
the crucifix, and breathing utterances of de- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


24 1 


voted love for her dying Redeemer; calling 
upon us all to love Him for her, and to draw 
the love of all hearts to Him, to compensate 
for the imperfections of her love. She also 
told us again and again, to be sure not to 
speak of her when she was gone as a glorified 
saint, or as rejoicing with the Just, “ for,” said 
she, “ when you speak of me in that way, it is 
because you do not know my faults, my ex¬ 
ceeding sinfulness, and if you allow your¬ 
selves to do it, you will forget to pray for 
me ! I want to entreat you to remember, that 
I shall need your prayers , and that if I am so 
happy as to gain a place in purgatory, it is all 
I can expect!” She often said, “ Now I know 
what a blessed thing it is to die a Catholic! 
I never before realized it as I do now! 0, 

why was I so favored as to be made a child 
of the Church, when so many who seem so 
much more worthy, are left to perish outside 
of the One Fold whose Shepherd is our great 
Redeemer!” It would fill pages, were I to re¬ 
cord the sweet expressions of gratitude, piety, 
and resignation, which were constantly falling 
from her lips, and all with such childlike sim- 




248 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


plicity and entire absence, most evidently, of 
any motive save the glory of God, that no 
one could hear them unmoved. Her physi¬ 
cian, (whose attendance was most devoted 
and kind,) though differing from her in reli¬ 
gion, w r as often deeply affected by the beauty 
of her character, and the spirit in which she 
endured her almost unprecedented sufferings. 

On the morning of Easter Sunday, before 
the gas-lights w r ere extinguished in her room, 
and when the first rays of light began to ap¬ 
pear, though they w'ere still so faint that no 
one in the room had noticed them, (her chair 
being so placed that she faced the East,) she 
whispered to me, “ It is the dawn of the day 
on the morning of the Resurrection!” then 
smiling sweetly she added, “ The women were 
very early at the Sepulchre, but the men w r ere 
not there, and the women were the first to be¬ 
lieve in His Resurrection 1” At seven o’clock 
that morning we thought she was going, the 
family were called in, and she took an affec¬ 
tionate leave of each one. She then requested 
me to say “We fly to thy patronage,” etc. 
and the Litany of the Blessed Virgin, which I 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


249 


did, feeling that it was the last time that her 
pure spirit would be united with ours in pious 
supplications this side of eternity. She joined 
with great fervor ; and although we united in 
prayers for her several times after that, when 
she was conscious that we were doing so, she 
was too much exhausted to join us outwardly. 
She hoped to depart on Easter Sunday, and 
we had repeatedly assured her that we thought 
she would be permitted to, but the hours 
passed on, and she was still lingering in the 
very embrace of death. Late in the evening 
she looked at me, while such a mournful shade 
flitted over her dear features as I can never 
forget, and sobbed in shuddering agony rather 
than uttered in words, “ It seems as if our 
dear Lord loves to see me suffer with Him1” 
and at the same moment the shade vanished, 
and a rapturous smile glowed upon her coun¬ 
tenance, as she kissed the crucifix, ever in her 
hand, and breathed, “Blessed forever be Ilis 
holy will!” I exhorted her to offer every 
pain she endured, in union with the sufferings 
of her Redeemer, to procure the conversion of 
those for whom she, and her sweet sisters, had 




250 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


been praying so long. She replied eagerly , 
11 1 do, all the time ; I am offering them, and 
I am willing to suffer everything , if I can only 
gain that treasure for them!” Her mother 
had remained with unflinching fortitude and 
constancy by her side through all those weary 
days! By night and by day had her gen¬ 
tle ministrations been exercised with untiring 
firmness, and while the cheerful patience, tho 
resignation, and piety of the daughter, were 
matters of wonder to her as to all who wit¬ 
nessed them, the calm endurance of that mo¬ 
ther under all the crushing sorrows of the 
scene, was a still greater surprise to me. I 
expressed it to her, and she said, “ My daugh¬ 
ters have prepared me for it; they have forti¬ 
fied me by their counsels, and have obtained 
support for me by their prayers!” adding that 
she was surprised at herself, when she thought 
how impossible it wouM once have been for 
her, even to have contemplated without entire 
dismay, the scenes through which she was now 
passing so calmly. Debbie could not bear to 
have her out of her sight; though she was fear¬ 
ful lest her health might suffer from such con- 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


251 


slant attendance, yet her presence was a com¬ 
fort she needed so much, that she could not 
bring herself to dispense with it. The last 
night, however, she noticed that her mother 
was much exhausted, and insisted that she 
should go to her own room and take some rest, 
quieting her fears about leaving her with ten¬ 
der assurances that she should be very com¬ 
fortable and would send for her if she was not. 
She then made her own arrangements as to the 
attendants who should remain in her room, 
two tender and faithful Catholic nurses, one of 
whom had been with the sisters through the 
winter, and the other for some weeks ; while 
her father and myself remained just outside 
the door of her apartment to be ready at any 
moment if needed. She made every effort to 
be quiet and contented, but exhausted nature 
wavered when the arm of the mother was 
withdrawn, and her mind became for the first 
time so completely bewildered that we could 
not soothe or pacify her. The presence of her 
mother again seemed to compose her at once. 
Those who were present will each remember, 
I am sure, to their dying day, the expression 



V 


252 THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 

of her countenance when her mother re-ap¬ 
peared, and the loving epithets with which 
she addressed her ! I never saw any manifes¬ 
tations more touching and affectionate than 
those she constantly showed for her parents. 
She had often assured me when she was in 
health, that the only real and bitter trial of 
her life as a Catholic, had been, that her con¬ 
victions of duty required her so to act as to 
give her parents pain. 

About twenty minutes before she ceased to 
breathe she desired to be laid on the bed 
quickly, which was done. Just after she was 
there she was wrung with a sharp agony, and 
the crucifix slipped from her hand at the same 
time that we thought she had breathed her last, 
but the next moment she gasped for breath, 
and threw out her right hand as if seeking for 
something. The Crucifix was placed in it, 
and her last effort was to clasp it to her heart, 
and I heard her utter the names Jesus! Mary ! 
Joseph! with that last breath which followed 
the effort. There were six Catholics kneeling 
at the foot of her bed and praying for her. 
For some minutes after she ceased to breathe 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


253 


the silence was so deep in that apartment of. 
death, that we dared not disturb it even with 
our sobbings—the indulgence of even the most 
sacred emotions of poor humanity seemed to 
us like irreverence in such a presence 1 At 
length the heart-stricken mother said gently 
and calmly, with uplifted eyes, “Another trea¬ 
sure gone before ! Her last words to me were, 

‘ Mother, you must be submissive f and I will 
try to be ; but how can I live without my 
daughters l” For the rest of us, we felt that we 
had accompanied a youthful saint to the Gates 
of Paradise, and that glimpses of that “ prom¬ 
ised land” had been revealed to us through 
the opened portals, as she passed them to her 
rest! May we ever remember those glimpses 1 
Four weeks and one day after Anna’s depar¬ 
ture, Debbie also withdrew to join the two sis¬ 
ters whose souls she had first led to consider 
the things which pertained to their salvation 
and peace, and the three now sleep side by 
side in the village cemetery. 

Requiem mternam dona eis Pomine! 

Et lux perpetua luceat eis ! 

The Bishop of Burlington performed the 
£2 



254 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


funeral services at the church, and delivered a 
most affecting and appropriate discourse, em¬ 
bodying many of the details, which I have en¬ 
deavored, though with imperfect success, to 
record. The Pastor of Fairfield officiated at 
the grave, and consigned the mortal remains 
of his spiritual child, “Ashes unto ashes, dust 
unto dust !” in the hope of a glorious resurrec¬ 
tion. To him I am much indebted for encour¬ 
agement and aid in the prosecution of my task. 
Speaking of which, in a letter to me, he says, 
“ I need not assure you that it gave me the 
greatest satisfaction to know that you were 
writing a sketch of the edifying lives of my 
children, (I love to call them such,) for I was 
their confidential friend besides being their 
confessor and guide, according to the little 
light which it has pleased God to give me. * * 
The dates of their baptism I suppose you 
have. * * * For the rest, I do not think the 
task will be a hard one to write their lives, 
with the assistance conveyed through the spirit 
which pervades their simple and sincere writ¬ 
ings ; the last one especially. Do not fear to 
say that her heart was the very sanctuary of 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


255 


purity and innocence! Above all, write my 
testimony as to her love for our Divine Lord in 
His adorable Sacrament. There was scarcely 
a day that she did not spend an hour in our 
lowly church, all alone save the presence of 
the Saviour she loved so much, and the blessed 
Angels who continually minister unto Him in 
His holy sanctuary. And the edification with 
which her presence inspired our young people 
especially, in her reception of the sacraments, 
will, I trust, never be forgotten. So full of 
faith, of recollection was my poor child. I 
know her fervent prayers will be offered to 
our Divine Lord and His Blessed Mother for 
your good intentions in writing those pious re¬ 
flections upon her life, for I am certain it will 
be a source of much good for our young peo¬ 
ple. Not that poor Debbie dreamed that her 
virtues should thus be recorded. No! for her 
it is sufficient that they are recorded by her 
loved Saviour Himself in the Book of Eternal 
Life. Besides her love to the Blessed Sacra¬ 
ment, her next pre-eminent virtue was charity 
towards others. I have never known her guilty, 
even once , of injuring in the least the character 



256 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


of another. Do not think I exaggerate. Who 
should know those sisters if I did not, who 
was their director and correspondent ever since 
their baptism. May God bless your work, and 
may it be the fruitful means of leading many 
another pure soul to Heaven l” Debbie’s be¬ 
loved “ Tante,” S-, also writes to me, “ I 

forget if I told you what our sweet Debbie 
said the day she gave me a Souvenir. ‘ My 

own Tante, S-, you have the first choice 

of everything I have ; you have been my best 
friend. Yes, indeed, so if there is anything 
that belongs to me which can please you, be 
sure you shall have it!’ I answered, I did 
not care for anything in particular, but I 
would cherish anything she liked the most . 
She smiled and said, ‘ Ma Tante, you should 
know that I am not attached to anything on 
earth; but what I value most is my ‘ Following 
of Christ,’ for that dear little book has been a 
source of great consolation to me in my little 
trials. I know you would like to have a cross 
that belonged to your child ; well, the one I 
value most is this,’ giving me the cross you 
saw; ‘now ma Tante, if these things please 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


257 


you, you must take them and anything else you 
would like to have.* I told her I was satisfied 
with these souvenirs. I relate this, that you 
may know how far she carried her detachment 
of all earthly affections ; this virtue is admira¬ 
ble in one so young. The dear child 1 I have 
the picture of her virtues constantly before my 
mind. You know she never had a secret from 
me ; her heart was opened to me as a book in 
which I could read all her life and character.” 

In delineating the dispositions and habits of 
these sisters, it is interesting to note their sin¬ 
gular diversity, while upon every phase of that 
diversity even, young as they were, the seal 
of peculiarities which mark the descendants of 
the Puritans was set with vivid distinctness. 
We may especially note in them the firmness, 
the free and independent tone of thought and 
action, which distinguish that part of the race 
in our own Vermont, which has emerged from 
the bondage of the strait-laced whims of their 
ancestors. It should open the eyes of those who 
have given credence to the false assertion that 
the Catholic religion enslaves the intellect , to 
see that it is among characters of this stamp, 




258 


the young converts. 


both old and young, that the conquests of the 
Church are achieved, and her choicest trea¬ 
sures gathered! It i3 Protestantism that fas¬ 
tens the iron fetters of human opinion upon 
its subjects, instead of the law of God, and 
under this cruel bondage they are held (and 
forced to hold themselves,) responsible for 
their opinions and actions to their miserable 
fellow-worms rather than to their Maker. If 
any one doubts it, let him presume so far upon 
his right to act for himself, as to leave their 
ranks and join those of the Catholic Church. 
He will soon find what liberty of conscience 
means, under their interpretation. It may be 
thought that I have presented the religious life 
and experiences of the sisters, and the closing 
scenes of each, together with their expressions 
of pious sentiments, (too well exemplified in 
their lives and deaths to be suspected of being 
mere sentiments,) with too much minuteness. 
I have just been reading the Memoirs of a 
celebrated lady in fashionable life, and I find 
in her much admired letters, far more copious 
and minute descriptions of worldly assemblies; 
of the splendor of drawing-rooms, the glitter 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


259 


of courts, magnificent dresses, jewels, and equi¬ 
pages of royalty and its attendants, than are 
given in these extracts from the letters of our 
beloved young friends of the assemblies of the 
just, the joys of devotion, and the “ priceless 
pearls” of' Heaven, that shine for another 
purpose here ; resplendent ornaments of the 
Spouse of Christ, which, unlike those of this 
world, shall glow with ever-increasing lustre in 
those heavenly courts, of which the greatest 
pomp and glory of earthly palaces, can furnish 
but the most remote conception! Shall the 
“ children of this world” be listened to with in¬ 
terest while they expatiate upon the things per¬ 
taining to “ their generation,” and the “ chil¬ 
dren of light” be heard with listless indiffer¬ 
ence and fatigue while dwelling upon those 
pertaining to theirs? Heaven forbid! We 
know that the former class will deem the zeal 
of our beloved ones misguided. Their devo¬ 
tion will be called fanaticism ; their faith su¬ 
perstition ; their religion a delusion, and their 
attention to the great concerns of Eternity an 
unneccessary occupation of time. The Com¬ 
piler of these Memoirs has many acquaintances 




260 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


among those who live for this icorld only; 
who regard all attention (I mean such atten¬ 
tion as they give to matters which really in¬ 
terest them,) to the affairs of another as use¬ 
less ; and who, whatever their outward profes¬ 
sion in the various Protestant premises may 
be, and whatever their inmost thoughts of the 
matter really are, live as if they did not believe 
in the existence of another. Yet I have never 
heard their ardent zeal in conforming to the 
prevailing fashions called misguided ; their 
anxious provision for splendid houses, furni¬ 
ture, and equipages, their twistings and turn¬ 
ings, (in many instances,) to make limited 
means reach the elegancies and luxuries which 
only large incomes should be expected to fur¬ 
nish, denounced as fanaticism; or their devoted 
attendance upon all the modern methods of 
“killing time” and displaying expensive finery, 
characterized as a waste of time or money, by 
those who set so high an estimate upon the 
former as to tremble, lest some of its precious 
hours should be bestowed upon religious ob¬ 
servances, and suffer great anxiety lest some 
small sums of the latter should be diverted 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


261 


from “ painting butterflies’ wings,” to clothing 
and feeding orphans. Alas! alas! If these 
disciples of the world should find hereafter 
that they have made a fatal mistake!—if it 
should appear that their opinions did not over¬ 
rule the decrees of Omnipotence, did not even 
alter them one iota!—that God, by His re¬ 
vealed will did require of them the perform¬ 
ance of duties which they have neglected—that 
they have been greater enthusiasts than those 
whom they condemn, but in a wrong direction, 
offensive to God—that in their horror of super¬ 
stition or believing too much , they have really 
rejected truths , their reception of which He 
has affixed as an indispensable condition to their 
eternal salvation—will their “Lord, Lord” 
avail them then? Will their even “prophe¬ 
sying” in His name, and in His name “ doing 
many wonderful works,” atone for their re¬ 
bellion against His authority and its require¬ 
ments? Certainly not! Even if they should 
sincerely believe more than is absolutely re¬ 
quired, would it harm them ? If by believing 
too little , salvation is endangered, are not such 
as these of whom I have been writing, at least, 




2G2 


THE YOUNG CONVERTS. 


on the safe side? I “ lmow whereof I affirm,” 
when I exclaim 

“ Oh ! blest are they who live, and die, like these !” 

My task is almost done! I sincerely wish . 
it better done ! I have lingered lovingly over 
it— 

“ With only such degree of sadness left, 

As might support longings of pure desire ; 

And strengthen love rejoicing secretly 
In the sublime attractions of the Grave !” 

I have felt while dwelling upon the singular 
history of these our precious sisters in the 
Faith, that it was indeed “ good for me” to be 
so occupied! I have realized the truth uttered 
by the wisest of men, that it is “ better to go 
to the house of mourning, than to go to the 
house of feasting.” I trust I shall carry with 
me through the grave and into Eternity, the 
treasures I have gathered in the prosecution 
of this work. May the perusal of these simple 
Memoirs produce a corresponding effect upon 
the minds of my young friends. Should any 
one among them, when sinking under opposi¬ 
tion and contempt, or when tempted by ridi¬ 
cule, to be ashamed of their religion, and its 


the Young converts. 


263 


practices, be encouraged by the examples here 
recorded to return to their first allegiance, and 
be awakened to renewed zeal and firmness in 
the confession of the holy Catholic faith in the 
midst of its enemies, I should feel my humble 
efforts amply rewarded. It has indeed been a 
labor of love , as well as of blessed obedience, 
for me, and watered with abundant tears! 
Truly happy shall I be, if I have been enabled 
so to perform the behest of our beloved and 
respected Bishop, as to claim the promise that 
“ they who sow in tears shall reap in joy,” 
and “ returning joyfully bring my sheaves with 
me” to the Altars of the Lord of Hosts, in the 
abundant fruits produced by it among our 
young people to the honor and glory of His 
Holy Name! 




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